TIT 







< 



I 



, 



DK 



WK"W TEMPERANCE PliAYS.— 15 Cents Each. 



M F 

(Bar Room, 11 5 

ima, 5 Acts, 12 5 

riuikard^sLifpjlO 4 



BoUle, 

Drunkard's Doom, 
Aunt Dinah's Pledge, 



11 6 I Temperance Doctor, • • 10 4 

^ 15 5 Fruits of the Wine Cup, • 6 3 

6 3 I Drunkard's Warning, [e] 6 3 



w 



No. I. 

. .lENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. 



I N. 



% Cragtbg; 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



M 



wm* 



lUEL FKENCH & SON, 

PUBLISHERS, 

Nassau Street, 

NEW YORK. 



SAMUEL F BENCH, 

PUBLISHER, 
LONDON. 



a^-MB 



^: 



FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAM 



Price 15 Cents each.— Bound Volumes $1. 25. 



VOL. I. 

lion 

2FMio 

8 Tb« Lftdy of Lyoni 

4 Kichclieu 

5 The Wife 

6 The Honeymoon 

T Th» School for Scandal 

8 Moj>ey 

VOL. II. 

9 Th» Stranger 

10 Grandfather Whitehead 

11 Richard III 

12 Love's Sacrifice 
18 The Gamester 

14 A Cure for the Heartaci 

15 The HunchJback 

16 Don Csesar de Bazan 
/ VOL. III. 

'l7 The Poor Gentleman 

18 Hamlet 

19 Charles II 

20 Venice Preierred 
I 21 j'lzarro 

I 22 The Love Chase 

I 23 Othello 

, 2i Lend me Five Shillings^ 

i • VOL. IV. 

25 Vlrglnius 

26 King of the Commons 

27 London Assurance 

28 The Rent Day 

29 Two Gentlemen ofVerona 

30 The Jealous Wife 

31 The Rivals 
8S Perfection 

VOL. V. IDebts 
88 A New Way to Pay Old 

84 Look Before You Leap 
36 King John 

85 Kenrons Man 



VOL. XI. 




81 Julius Caesar 


161 


82 Vicar of Wakefield 


162 


83 Leap Year 


163 


84 The Catspaw 


164 


85 The Passing Clone' 


165 


86 Drunkard 


166 


87 Rob Roy 


167 


88 George Barnwell 


168 


VOL. XII. 




89 Ingomar 


169 S 


90 Sketches In India 


170] 


91 Two Friend* 


■171( 


92 Jane Shore 


172] 


93 Corsican BrotheM 


1731 


94 Mind your own Business 


174] 


95 Writing on the Wall 


175] 


96 Heir ai Law 


1761 


VOL. XIII. 




97 SCidier's Daughter 


177. 


98 Douglas 


178] 


99 Marco Spada 


179] 


100 Nature's Nobleman 


186 


101 Sardanapalus 


181 


102 Cirilization 


182 { 


103 The Robbers 


183 ^ 


104 Katharine andPetruchlo 


184] 


VOL. XIV. 




105 Game of Love 


185 


106 Midsummer Night's 


186 


107 Ernestine [Dream 


187 1 


108 Rag Picker of Paris 


1881 


109 Flying Dutchman 


189] 


110 Hypocrite 


190. 


111 Therese 


1911 


112 La Tour de Nesle 


192 ( 


VOL. XV. 




113 Ireland As It U 


193] 


114 Sea of Ice 


194] 


115 Seven Clerkg 


195 J 


116 Game of Life 


196^ 



VOL. XXI. , VOL. xx: 

L All's Fair in Love (241 Merry Wives o 
i Hofer 342 Mary' s Birthd 

3 Self 243 Shandy Magui 

4 Cinderella 244 Wild Oats 

5 Phantom 245 Michael Erie 
5 Franklin [Moscow 246 Idiot Witness 
r The Gunmaker of '247 Willow Copse 
J The Love of a Prince "--" -• - 

VOL. XXII. 



9 Son of the Night 
ORory O'More 

1 Golden Eagle 

2 Rienii 
J Broken Sword 
t Rip Van Winkle 
5 Isabelle 
S Heart of Mid Lothian 

VOL. XXIII. 

1 Actress of Padua 

3 Floating Beacon 
d Bride of Lamermoor 
) Cataract of the Ganges 
L Robber of the Rhine 

2 School of Reform 

3 Wandering Boys 
i Mazeppa 

VOL. XXIV. 
> Young New York 
3 The Victim? 
r Romance after Marriage 
i Brigand 

9Poorof New York 
} Ambrose Gwinett 

1 Raymond and Agnes 

2 Gambler's Pate 
VOL. XXV. 

3 Father and Son 

4 Massaniello 
) Sixteen String Jack 

5 Youthful Queen 



248 People's Law; 
VOL. XXX' 

249 The Boy Mart; 

250 Lucretia Borg 

251 Surgeon of Pa 

252 Patrician's Da 

253 Shoemaker of 

254 Momentous Q 

255 Love and Loyf 

256 Robber's Wife 

VOL. XXX 
267 Dumb Girl of 

258 Wreck Ashore 

259 Clari 

260 Rural Felicity 
,261 Wallace 

262 Madelaine 

263 The Fireman r 

264 Grist to the Mi 
VOL. XXX 

265 Two Loves an^ 

266 Annie Blake 

267 Steward 

268 Captain Kyd 

269 Nick of the W 

270 Marble Heart 

271 Second Love 

272 Dream at Sea 
VOL. XXX 

2f73 Breach of Pro 

274 Review 

275 Lady of the L, 

276 StiU Water E< 



»di*ounwvi»««rs 1^**^! 1*4 Bold Dragoon* 

64 Three Wee^-* after Mar- \ )L. XIX 

VOL. IX. " 

66 As Ton Like It 

67 The llder Brother 
6H Werner 
69 Gisippas 



70 Town and Country 

71 King Lear 

72 Blue Devilfl 

VOL. X. 
T8 Henry VIII 
H >Unifl*ui Sin;ri« 



T» Sarioqs Famlij 

80 3io .Stoop* t<i Conquer 



146 Dre \ ov the Dismal 

[Swamp 

146 Last Days of Pompeii 

147 Ismeralda 

148 Peter Wllkias 

149 Ben the Boetewain 

150 JonatLan Bradford 

151 Retribution 

152 MioM-all 
VOL. IX. 

158 French Spy 

• .4 ^Vept of Wiih-toa Wieh 



i" France 

• lOT rtBd UMk 

159 Life of an Actress 

160 Wedding Day 



Catalogue continued on third ;>- 



[Laura Keeae's Edition l^Xi ^"^'^T' - , . 

224 Art alid Artifice 304 Cradle of Lib 
TOL. XXIX VOL. XX3 

225 Poor Toung Man 305 The Lost Ship 

226 Ossawaiiomle Brown 806 Country Squii 

227 Pope of Runie 307 Fraud and its 
Oliver Twist 308 Piunam 
Panvrette '303 i ^ ' - 

230 Man in the Iron Mask 310 I 

231 Knight of Arva 311 A 

282 Moll Pitcher 812 G'-siuncue \ ai 

VOL. XXX. VOL. XI 

233 Black Eyed Sug^m 818 The Love Knc 

234 Satan in Paris 314 Lavater, or > 
'}85 Rosinw Meadows [ess SIS The Nobio He> 
236 West End, or Irish Heir- 316 Corlolanus 

287 ri\T Degrees of Crime 317 The Winter's ' 

288 Thi-, Lady »nd the Devil 31 8 Eveleei WiU< 

289 Avsnger.or Moor of bici- |3l9 Ivanhoe 
240Maflk3and 7a9«t Hyl320 Joratb m In E 



-^r.) 



FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. 

* No. I. 

EDITED BY ESPES SARGEXT. 



ION. 



^ Cragcbn. 

IN FIVE ACTS. 
BY THOMAS NOON TALPOTTHD. 

W»H 8TAQK BUSINESS CAST OF CHARACTTrRS, O0erUMii:S. iWljinn 



N E W Y O R K : 

SAMUEL FRENCH, PUBLISHER, 

122 NassauStrei:t. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Original Cdsl at C» 

vent Garden. Haymarkety 1332. i erft, I816, 

)•», a Foundling ... Mr. Macready. Miss Ellen Tree. Mr«. Chas. Reaik 

Adrattus *' Dale. Mr. Vandcnhoff. Mr. Charles Keat 

Medoitj High Priewtt ** " Selby. ♦« Barry. 

Cte§ipkon « H. Wallack. *■ Bennett. " Dyott 

Ceuaander " Howard. " Russell. " S.Pearson 

Agemur " Pritchard. " Haines. " Bland. 

Clean " Tilbury. " Gough. ' Vacho. 

Phocion " G.Bennett. " James Vining. ** Crocker. 

Timoclet " Harris. '• Gallot. '* M* DoualL 

Ctythes " C.Hill. " Worrell. « Gourlay 

Soldier « Gallot. 

First Priest " King. 

Second Priest " Heath. 

Irus Miss Lane. Miss E. Phillips. Mrs. Knight. 

Clemanthe '* Ellen Tree. " Miss Taylor. Miss Crocker. 

Abra " Lacy. Mrs. Burrows 



COSTUMES. 

ION. — Grecian shirt and toga edged with Grecian border, fleshings and sandab • 

Second dress : Same as Adrastus. 
ADRASTUS.— Grecian shirt, gold breast-plate and lambcrkins, fleshings, sand«l% 

regal robe-s, and crown. 
MEDON. — White surplice, white robes of toga form, gold bands, vitta round head 

with white ribbons, fleshings and sandals. 
CTESIPHON. — Grecian shirt, lamberkins, breast-plate, helmet, fleshings and saa 

CRYTHES.— Same as Ctesiphon. 

PHOCION. — Grecian shirt, white toga, fleshings, and sandals. 

CASSANDER Same as Phocion. 

AGENOR. — ^White surplice, white robes, fleshing.s, and sandals — like a Frit u ol 

Apollu. 
CLEON and TLMOCLES.— Same as Agenor. 
IRUS. — Grecian white shirt, fleshings and sandals. 
SOLDIERS. — Grecian shirts, breast-plates, lamberkins, helmets, fleshings, ana tan 

dais. 
CLEMANTHE. — White and geld Grecian head-dress, white dress and ribands. 
IBRA. — Plain Grecian dress. 

Priests, Soldiers, ifC. 

Scene, .4£Gos. — The time of the Action is comprised 'n one iay and uighv 
and the following morning. 



EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 
R. means Right ; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left D^tr 
8 E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrtnce; M. D. Middle B*Htr 

RELATIVE POSITIONS. 
R.p me^n^ Right; L., Left ; C, Centre; R. C, Right of Ceirei 
L. C, Left of Centre. 

fijf Pasfages markfd with Inverted Comran!^ are usiialhj omitted in tJW 

representation. 

By Exchange" ^ : 

Army and Navy Clut: 
JANUARY 16 1934 



EDITORIAL INTRODUCTIDN. 



I 



T^^ Tragedy of Ion was first publicly produced at the 
CovenV Garden Theatre, on the night of Mr. Macready'a 
benefit, 26th of May, 1836. It had been printed, and 
privately circulated, some months before, but it was not 
until a London audience had given it the stamp of their 
approbation, that an edition, large enough to supply the 
demand of the public, was issued. 

The success of this piece in the representation was as 
decided as it was remarkable and unexpected. That a 
play so strictly classical in its construction and language, 
so pervaded by the spirit of the mythology of ancient 
Greece, and so destitute of those melo-dramatic coups de 
theatrCy which are usually considered necessary in order 
to "bring down the house' ^ — that such a play should not 
only charm the scholar and the man of letters in the 
closet, but attract, night after night, large popular audi- 
ences, in the representation, might well have been a mat 
ler of surprise to the author and his friends 

Not only in England but in the United States, " Ion" 
continues to be one of the most attractive cf stock plays. 
It was feared by those, who read the piece previous to its 
performance, that the character and missio i of the " de« 



n 



<oted'' hero were such as to place him out of the pale of 
the sympathies of a modern popular audience but it is a 
great triumph of the author's genius, that notwithstanding 
the formidable obstacles with which he has to contend, he 
has placed his tragedy prosperously upon the modern 
stage, so that it ranks not only among the most beautiful 
closet dramas, but the most successful acting plays in the 
English language. 

" The title of Ion,'' says Mr. Talfourd, " is borrowed 
from the Tragedy of Euripides, which gave the first hint 
of the situation in which its hero is introduced — that of 
a foundling youth educated in a temple and assisting in 
its services ; but otherwise there is no resemblance be« 
tween this imperfect sketch and that exquisite picture.'* 

Of Macready's impersonation of the hero, the author 
says : " It was one of the most remarkable triumphs of 
art, w^hich has graced the stage of late years. Although 
other of his performances are abstractedly greater, none 
I believe approach this as an effort of art, estimated with 
reference to the nature of the materials which he anima- 
ted, to the difficulties which he subdued, and to the pre- 
conceptions which he charmed away. By the graces of 
beautiful elocution, he beguiled the audience to receive 
the drama as belonging to a range of associations which 
are no longer linked with the living world, but which 
retain an undying interest of a gentler cast, as a thing 
which might have been , and then by his fearful powei 
of making the fantastic real, he gradually rendered the 
whole possible — probable — true! The consequence of 
this extraordinary power of vivifying the frigid, and 
familiarising the remote, was to dissipate the fears of my 
friends ; to render the play an object of attraction during 
Ihe short remainder of the season; and to embolden 
others to attempt the pait, and encourage other audiences 



to approve it, cvtfl \^hen the power which first gare it 
sanction was wanting/^ 

Li regard to Miss Ellen Tree, who, in this country, 
" illustrated the hero, and made the stoiy of his sufferings 
and his virtues familiar to transatlantic cars,'^ Mr.Talfourd 
says : " Who is there who does not feel proud of the just 
appreciation, by the great American people, of one who 
is not only the exquisite representative of a range of de- 
lightful characters, but of all that is most graceful and 
refined in English womanhood, — or fail to cherish a wish 
for her fame and happiness, as if she were a particular 
friend or relation of his own V^ 

The moral tone of this exquisite play is throughout 
vigourous and healthy. The strong anti-monarchical prin- 
ciples, which it inculcates, are manifest on every page ; 
and should contribute largely to its popularity in republi- 
can America. The characters of Ion and Adrastus are 
pourtrayed and contrasted with a master hand; and the 
subordinate persons of the drama are all skilfully indivi- 
duaUzed. Indeed, the play promises long to retain its 
high place among the most admired and perfect specimeni 
of tlip British drama. 



f ON: 



A c T I . 

ScENB I.— 2%^ Interior of the Templt of Apollo, whick 
it supposed to be placed on a rocJcy eminence^ — Early morn* 
ing. — 'The interior lighted hy a single lamp impended from 
the roof — Agenor resting against a column^ r. — Irus seated 
on a bench at the side of the scene, l. 

Agenor comes forward and speaks, c. 

Agenor. Will the dawn never visit us 1 These hoinv 
Toil heavy with the unresting curse they bear 
To do the work of desolating years ! 
All distant sounds are hush'd ; — the shriek of death 
And the survivors* wail are now unheard, 
As grief had worn itself to patience. Iinis ! 
I'm loth so soon to break thy scanty rest, 
But my heart sickens for the tardy morn ; 
Sure it is breaking ; speed and look — yet hold — 
Know'st thou the fearful shelf of rock that hangs 
Above the encroaching waves, the loftiest point 
That stretches eastward ? 

Irus. Know it 1 Yes, my lord ; 
There often have I bless'd the opening day, 
Which thy free kindness gave me leave to waBtt 
In happy wanderiiis^ through tho forests. 



12 as. {40ri 

Agen. Well, 
Thou art not then afraid to tread it ; theie 
The earliest streak from the unrisen sun 
Is to be welcomed ; tell me how it gleams. 
In bloody portent, or in saffron hope, 
And hasten back to slumber. 

Irtis. I shall hasten ; 
Believe not that thy summons broke my rest 
I was not sleeping. [ExU, u 

Agen, Heaven be with thee, child ! 
His grateful mention of dehghts bestow'd 
On that most piteous state of servile childhood 
By liberal words chance-dropp'd, hath touched a yein 
Of feeling which I deem'd forever numb'd, 
And, by a gush of household memories, breaks 
The icy casing of that thick despair 
Wliich day by day hath gathered o'er my heart. 
While, basely safe, within this column'd circle, 
Uplifted far into the purer air, 
And by Apollo's partial love secured, 
I have, in spirit, glided with the Plague, 
As in foul darkness or in sickliest light 
It wafted death through Argos : and mine eani 
Listening athirst for any human sound. 
Have caught the dismal cry of confused pain. 
Which to this dizzy height the fitful wind 
Hath borne from each sad quarter of the vale 
Where life was. 

Re-mter Irus, l. 

Are there signs of day-break ? 

Irus, None; 
The eastern sky is still unbroken gloom. 

Agcn, It cannot surely be. Thine eyes aie dkm 
(No fault of thine) for want of rest, or now 
1 look upon tnem near, with scalding tears. 
Hath care alighted on a head so young ! 
What grief hast thou been weeping ] 

Irus, Pardon me ; 
* never thought at such a mournful time 
To plead my humble sorrow in excuse 



9eMm I.] "ON. 13 

Of poorly-rendered service, but my brother — 

Thou may'st have noted him, — a sturdy lad, 

With eye so merry and w^ith foot so light 

That none could chide his gamesomeness— fell si«k 

But yesterday, and died in my weak arms 

Ere 1 could seek for stouter aid ; I hoped 

That I had taught m^ grief to veil its signs 

From thy observant care ; but w^hen I stood 

Upon the vi^ell-knovm terrace vsrhere we loved, 

Ann link'd in arm, to watch the gleaming sails— 

His favourite pastime, for he bum'd to shai-e 

A seaman's hardy lot — my tears would flow, 

And I forgot to dry them. But I see 

Cleon is walking yonder ; let me call him ; 

For sure 'twill cheer thy heart to speak with him. 

Agen. Call him, good youth, and then go in to sleeps 
Or, if thou wilt, go weep. [Exit Irus, i.- 

I envy th^e 
The privilege, but Jupiter forefend 
That I should rob thee of it ! 

Enter Cleon, l. 

Cleon, Hail, Agenor ! 
Dark as our lot remains, 'tis comfort yet 
To find thy age unstricken. 

Agen, Rather mourn 
That I am destined still to linger here. 
In strange unnatural strength, while death is round v^9 
I chide these sinews that are framed so tough 
Grief cannot palsy them ; I chide the air 
Wliich round this citadel of nature breathes 
With sweetness not of this world \ I would share 
The common grave of my dear countr^^men. 
And sink to rest, while all familiar things 
Old custom has endeared are failing with me. 
Rather than shiver on in life behind them. 
Nor should these walls detain me from the paths 
Where death may be embraced, but that my word. 
In a rash moment plighted to our host. 
Forbids me to depart without his license, 
Which firmly he refuses. 



14 K>K TAorl 

Clean, Do not chid a mo, 
If I rej ji^e to find the generous Priest 
Means, with Apollo's blessing, to preserve 
The treasure of tiy wisdom ; — nay, he trusts not 
To promises alone ; his gates are barr'd 
Against thy egress : — none, indeed, may pass theii), 
Save the youth Ion, to whose earnest prayer 
llis foster-father grants reluctant leave 
To visit the sad city at his will : 
And freely does he use the dangerous boon, 
Which, in my thought, the love that cherish'd him, 
Since he was found within the sacred grove 
Smiling amidst the storm, a most rare infant, 
Should have had sternness to deny. 

Agen, What, Ion, 
The only inmate of this fane, allow'd 
To seek the mournful walks where death is busy !— 
Ion, our sometime darling, whom we prized 
As a stray gift, by bounteous Heaven dismissed 
From some bright sphere whicli sorrow may not cloudy 
To make the happy happier ? Is 7ie sent 
To grapple with the miseries of this time. 
Whose nature such ethereal aspect wears 
As it would perish at the touch of wrong 1 
By no internal contest is he trained 
For such hard duty ; no emotions rude 
Have his clear spirit vanquished ;— Love, the germ 
Of his mild nature, hath spread graces forth. 
Expanding with its progress, as the store 
Of rainbow colour which the seed conceals 
Sheds out its tints from its dim treasury. 
To flush and circle in the flower. No tear 
Hath tiird his eye save that of thoughtful joy. 
When, in the evening stillness, lovely things 
Pressed on his soul too busily ; his voice, 
If in the earnestness of childish sports, 
Raised to the tone of anger, checked its force, 
As if it fear'd to break its being's law, 
And falter'd into music : when the forms 
Of guilty passion hive been made to live 
In jktured speeca and others have wax'd loud 



ncWMEh} ION ^ III 

In rigliteC/US indignation, he hatli heard 
With sceptic ^mile, or from some slender ve:u 
Of goodness, which surrounding gloom concetl'd; 
Struck sunlight o'er it : so his life hath flow'd 
From its mysterious urn a sacred stream, 
In whose calm depth the beautiful and pure 
Alone are mirror'd ; which, though shapes of ill 
May hover round its surface, glides in light, 
And takes no shadow from them. 

Clean. Yet, metbinks, 
Thou hast not lately met him, or a change 
Pass'd strangely on him had not miss'd thy wonder. 
His fonn appears dilated ; in those eyes, 
Where pleasure danced, a thoughtful sadness dwella y 
Stern purpose knits the forehead, which till now 
Knew not the passing wrinkle of a care ; 
Those limbs which in their heedless motion own'd 
A stripling's playful happiness, are strong 
As if the iron hardships of the camp 
Had given them sturdy nurture ; and his step. 
Its airiness of yesterday forgotten, 
Awakes the echoes of these desolate courts, 
As if a hero of gigantic mould 
Paced them in armour. 

Agen Hope is in thy tale. 
This is no freak of Nature's wayward course. 
But work of pitying Heaven ; for not in vain 
The gods have pour'd into that guileless heart 
The strengths that nerve the hero ; — they are ours. 

Cleon. How can he aid us 1 Can he stay the pulse 
Of ebbing life, — arrest the infected winds, 
Or smite the hungry spectre of the grave ? 

A^en, And dost thou think these breezes are our foet,-^ 
The innocent airs that used to dance aroutd us, 
As if they felt the blessings they convey'd 
Or that the death they bear is casual ] No ! 
'Tis human guilt that blackens in the cloud, 
Flashes athwart its mass in jagged fire, 
Whiilsin the hurricane, pollutes the air, 
Tunis all the joyous melodies of earth 
To murmuriugs of doom. There is a foer 



ti cm £Awf 

Who in the glorious gummit of tl e state 
Draws down the great resentment of the gods. 
Whom he defies to strike us ; — yet his power 
Partakes that just infirmity which Nature 
Blends in the empire of her proudest sons — 
That it is cased within a single breast, 
And may be pluck'd thence by a single arm. 
Let but that arm, selected by the gods, 
Do its great ofiice on the tyrant's life. 
And Argos breathes again ! 

Cleon. A footstep ! — ^hush ! 
Thy wishes, falling on a slavish ear, 
Would tempt another outrage : 'tis a fi-iend — 
An honest though a crabbed one — Timocles : 
Something hath ruffled him. Good day, Timocles ! 

[Timocles passes in front . 
He will not speak to us. 

Agen. But he shall speak. 
Timocles — nay then, thus I must enforce thee ! [Stayinghiim, 
Sure thou wilt not refuse a comrade's hand. 
That may be cold ere sunset. 

Tim, (giving his hand,) Thou may'st school me ; 
Thy years and love have license ; but I own not 
A stripling's mastery ; is't fit, Agenor ] 

Agen, Nay, thou must tell thy wrong : whate'er it proves 
I hail thy anger as a hopeful sign, 
For it revives the thought of household days, 
When the small bickerings of friends had space 
To fret, and Death was not forever nigh 
To frown upon Estrangement. What has moved iheo I 

Tim, I blush to tell it. Weary of the night 
And of my life, I sought the western portal : 
It opened, when ascending from the stair 
That through the rock winds spiral from the to%vii» 
Ion, the foundling cherish'd by the Priest, 
Stood in the entrance : with such mild commtnd 
As he has often smilingly obey'd, 
I bade him stand aside and let me pass ; 
When — wouldst thou think it ?— in determined Bpeedl« 
He gave me counsel to return ; I press' d 
Impatiei t onward : ho, with honey'd phrasfe 



«e«i»I.] ION. .1 

His daring act excusing, grasped my arm 
With strength resistless ; led me from the gate 
Replaced its ponderous bars ; and, with a look 
As modest as he wore in childhood, left me. 

Agen. And thou wilt thank him for it soon : ho OBCiw^— 
Now hold thy angiy purpose, if thou can'st! 

Enter Ion, l. 

Ion, I seek thee, good Timocles, to implore 
Again thy pardon. I am young in trust, 
And fear, lest, in the earnestness of love, 
I stayed thy course too rudely. Thou hast borne 
My childish folly often, — do not frown 
If I have ventured with unmanner'd zeal 
To guard the ripe experiences of years 
From one rash moment's danger. 

Tim, Leave thy care. 
If I am weary of the flutterer life. 
Is mortal bidding thus to cage it in % 

Ion (crosses c). And art thou tired of being] Has the gra?e 
No terrors for thee ] Hast thou sunder'd quite 
Those thousand meshes which old custom weaves 
To bind us earthward, and gay fancy films 
With airy lustre various ? Hast subdued 
Tho^e cleavings of the spirit to its prison. 
Those nice regards, dear habits, pensive memories, 
That change the valour of the thoughtful breast 
To brave dissimulation of its fears ] 
Is Hope quenched in thy bosom ] Thou art free, 
And in the simple dignity of man 
Standest apart untempted ; — do not lose 
The great occasion thou hast pluck'd from misery, 
Nor play the spendthrift with a great despair, 
But use it nobly ! 

Tim. What, to strike ? to slay 

Ion. No!— not unless the audible voice of HeE7em 
Call thee to that dire office ; but to shed 
On ears abused by falsehood, truths of power 
In words immortal, — not such words as flash 
Prom the fierce demagogue's unthinking rage 
To madden for a moment and expivi, — 



38 ION. f4ot1 

Noi such as the rapt orator imbues 

With warmth of facile sympathy, and moulclfl 

To mirrors radiant with fair images, 

To grace the noble fervour of an hour ; — 

But words which bear the spirits of great deeds 

Wing'd for the Future ; which the dying breath 

Of Freedom's martyr shapes as it exhales. 

And to the most enduring forms of earth 

Commits — to linger in the craggy shade 

Of the huge valley, 'neath the eagle's home 

Or in the sea-cave where the tempest sleeps, 

Till some heroic leader bid them wake 

To thrill the world with echoes ! — But I talk 

Of things above my grasp, which strangely press 

Upon my soul, and tempt me to forget 

The duties of my youth ; pray you forgive me. 

Tim. Have I not said so ] 

Agen, Welcome to the mom ! 
The eastern gates unfold, the Priest approaches ; 

[^As Agenor speaks, the great gates at the hack of the Sc£n€ 
open ; the Sea is discovered far beneath, — the dawn breaking 
over it. 

Medon, the Priest, enters, attended. 
And lo ! the sun is struggling v/ith the gloom, 
Whose masses fill the eastern sky, and tints 
Its edges with dull red ; — but he will triumph ; 
Bless'd be the omen ! 

Medon, God of light and joy, 
Once more delight us w4th thy healing beams ! 
If I may trace thy language in the clouds 
That wait upon thy rising, help is nigh — 
But help achieved in blood. 

Ion, Say'st thou in blood 1 

Medon, Yes, Ion ! — why, he sickens at the word. 
Spite of his new-bom strength: the sights of woe 
That he will seek have shed their paleness on him. 
Has this night's walk shown more than common sorrow I 

Ion, I pass'd the palace where the frantic king 
Yet holds his crimson revel when ;e the roar 
Of desperate mirth came, mingling with the sigh 
Of deadi-subdued robustness, and the gleam 



J 



SCEFJtl.] TON. 19 

Of festal lamps 'mid spectral columns hung 
Flaunting o'er shapes of an^ish, made them ghastlier. 
How can I cease to tremble for the sad ones 
He mocks — and him, the wretchedest of all] 

Tim. And canst thou pity him 1 Dost thou discero^ 
Amidst his impious darings, plea for him ] 

I(m. Is he not childless, friendless, and a king] 
He's human ; and some pulse of good must live 
Within his nature — ^have ye tried to wake it 1 

Medon, Yes ; I believe he felt our sufferings one© ; 
When, at my strong entreaty, he despatched 
Phocion, my son, to Delphos, there to seek 
Our cause of sorrow; but, as time dragg'd on 
Without his messenger's return, he grew 
Impatient of all counsel, — to his palace 
In awful mood retiring, wildly calFd 
The reckless of his court to share its stores, 
And end all with him. When we dared disturb 
His dreadful feasting with a humble prayer 
That he would meet us, the poor slave, who bore 
The message, flew back smarting from the scourge^ 
And mutter'd a decree that he who next 
Unbidden met the tyrant's glance, should die. 

Agen. I am prepared to brave it. 

Cleon. So am I. 

Tim. And I— 

Ion. O, Sages, do not think my prayer 
Bespeaks unseemly forwardness — send me ! 
The coarsest reed that trembles in the marsh, 
If Heaven select it for its instrument. 
May shed celestial music on the breeze. 
As clearly as the pipe whose virgin gold 
Befits the lip of Phcebus ; — ye are wise ; 
And needed by your country ; ye are fathers . 
I am a lone stray thing, whose little life 
By strangers' bounty cherish'd, like a wave, 
That from the summer sea a wanton breeze 
Lifts for a moment's sparkle, will subside 
Light as it rosv3, nor leave a sigh in breaking, 

Medon. Ion, no sigh ! 

lor. FcTgivcme, if I secm'd 



20 io:f. [l,t| 

To doubt that tnou wilt mourn me if 1 fall ; 
Nor would I tax thy love with such a fear, 
But that high promptings, which could never riae 
Spontaneous in my nature, bid me plead 
Thus boldly for the mission. 

Medon, My brave boy ! 
It shall be as thou wilt. I see thou art call'd 
To this great peril, and I will not stay thee. 
When wilt thou be prepared to seek it 1 

Ion, Now. 
Only before I go, thus, on my knee, 
Let me in one word thank thee for a life 
Made by thy love a cloudless holiday ; 
And, oh, my more than father ! let me look 
Up to thy face, as if indeed a father's, 
And give mt? « son's blessing. 

Medon, Bless thee, son ! 
I should be marble now ; let's part at once. 

Ion, If I should not return, bless Phocion for me ; 
And, for Clemanthe — may I speak one wore, 
One parting word, with my fair playfellow ] 

Medon, If thou would st have it so, thou shalt. 

Ion, Farewell then ! 
Your prayers wait on my steps. The arm of Heaveii 
I feel, in life or death, will be around me. [Exit^ U 

Medon, O grant it be in life ! Let's to the sacrifice. 

[Exeunt, k 

SCENE \l,— An Apartment of the Temple. 
Enter Clbm a^t he, Jollotved hy Abra, B. 

Clem, Is he so changed ] 

Ahra, His bearing is so altei'd, 
That, distant, I scarce knew him for himself; 
But, looking in his face, I felt his smile 
Gracious as ever, though its sweetness wore 
Unwonted sorrow in it. 

Clem, He will go 
To some high fortune, and forget us all, 
Reclaim'd (be sure of it) by noble parents ; 
Me, he forgets already ; for five lays. 
Five melancholy days, I have not seen him. 



HoywIL] ION. S| 

^Jr/t. Thou knowest jat he has privilege to rang# 
The infected city ; and, " tis said, he spends 
The hours of needful rerit in squalid hovels 
Wliere death is most forsaken. 

Clem. Why is this ] . 
Why should my father, niggard of the lives 
Of aged men, be prodigal of youth 
So rich in glorious prophecy as his 1 

Ahra, He comes to ansvtrer for himself. V\ leave you. 

[Exit^ It 

Clem. Stay ! Well my heart may guard its secret best 
By its own strength. 

Enter Ion yjj. 

Ton. How fares my pensive sister 1 

Clem. How should I fare bul ill, when the pale hand 
Draws the black foldings of the eternal curtain 
Closer and closer round us— ^Phocion absent—^ 
And thou, forsaking all within thy home, 
Wilt risk thy life with strangers, in whose aid 
Even thou canst do but little ] 

Ion, It is little : 
But in these sharp extremities of fOi-cune, 
The blessings which the weak and poor can scatter 
Have their own season. *Tis a little thing 
To give a cup of water ; yet its draught 
Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, 
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame 
More exquisite than when nectarean juice 
Uenews the life of joy in happiest hours. 
it is a little thing to speak a phrase 
Of common comfort, which by daily use 
Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear 
Of him who thought to die unmoum^d, 'twill all 
Like choicest music ; fill the glazing eye 
With gentle tears ; relax the knotted hand 
To know the bonds of fellowship again ; 
And shed on the departing soul a sense, 
More precious than the benison of friends 
About the honoured death-bed of the rich. 
To him who else were Icnely, that another 
Of the great family is near and feels 



*2 ION. [Awl 

Clem, Oh, thou canst never bear these mournful erf 
fices! 
So blithe, so meny once ! Will not the sight 
Of frenzied agonies unfix thy reason, 
Or the dumb woe congeal tliee 1 

Ion, No, Clemanthe : 
They are the patient sorrows that touch nearest I 
If thou hadst seen the warrior, when he writhed 
In the last grapple of his sinewy frame 
With conquering anguish, strive to cast a smile 
(And not in vain) upon his fragile wife. 
Waning beside him, — and, his limbs composed, 
The widow of the moment fix her gaze 
Of longing, speechless love, upon the babe, 
The only living thing which yet was hers, 
Spreading its arms for its own resting-place, 
Yet with attenuated hand wave off 
The unstricken child, and so embraceless die 
Stifling the mighty hunger of the heart ; 
Thou could'st endure the sight of selfish grief 
In sullenness or frenzy ; — ^but to-day 
Another lot falls on me. 

Clem. Thou wilt leave us ! 
I read it plainly in thy altered mien, 
'.s it for ever ] 

Ion. That is vnth the gods ! 
( go but to the palace, urged by hope, 
Which from afar hath darted on my soul. 
That to the humbleness of one like me 
The haughty king may listen. 

Clem. To the nalar,e ! 
Knowest thou the peril— nay, the certain issue 
That waits thee 1 Death ! — The tyrant has decredd ft. 
Confirmed it with an oath ; and he has power 
To keep that oath ; for, hated as he is, 
The reckless soldiers who partake his not 
Are swift to do his bidding. 

Ion. I know all ! 
But they who call me to the ^ork can sLield n^e. 
Or make me strong to suffer. 

Clem. Then the sword 






feme II.] 



lOxV. 29 



Falls on thy neck ! O gods ! to tliink that thou. 

Who in the plenitude of youthful life 

Art now before me, ere the sun decline, 

Perhaps in one short hour, shalt lie cold, cold, 

To speak, smile, bless no more ! — Thou shalt not go 

Ion, Thou must not stay me, fair one : even thy father, 
Who (blessings on him !) loves me as his son. 
Yields to the will of Heaven. 

Clem, And can he do this ! 
I shall not bear his presence, if thou fallest 
By his consent : so shall I be alone. 

Ion, Phocion will soon return, and juster thoughts 
Of thy admiring father close the gap 
Thy old companion left behind him, 

Clem, Never! 
What will to me be father, brother, friends. 
When thou art gone — the light of our life quench d- • 
Haunting like spectres of departed joy 
The home where thou wert dearest ] 

Ion, Thrill me not 
With words that, in their agony, suggest 
A hope too ravishing, — or my head will swim. 
And my heart faint within me. 

Clem, Has my speech 
Such blessed power % I will not mourn it then, 
Though it had told a secret I had borne 
Till death in silence : how affection grew 
To this, I know not : — day succeeded day, 
Eacn fraught with the same innocent delights, 
Without one shock to ruffle the disguise 
Of sisterly regard which veiled it well, 
Till thy changed mien reveal'd it to my soul, 
And thy great peril makes me bold to tell it. 
Do not. despise it in me ! 

Ion With deep joy 
Tims I receive it. Trust me, it is long 
Since I have leam'd to tremble 'mid our pleasures, 
Lest I should break the golden dream around me 
With most ungratefil rashness. I should bless 
The sharp and perilous duty which hath press' J 
A life's deliciousnesc into these moments, — 



t* lO.V. 4CT I 

Which here must end. I came to s£ j farowel]. 
And ths word must be said. 

Clem. Thou can'st not mean it ! 
Havo I disclaimed all maiden bashfulness^ 
To tell the cherished secret of my soul 
To my soul's master, and in rich return 
Obtained the dear assurance oi his love. 
To hear him speak that miserable word 
1 cannot — will not echo ? 

Ion, Heaven has called me, 
And I have pledged my honour. When thy heart 
Bestowed its preference on a friendless boy, 
Thou didst not image him a recreant ; nor 
Must he prove so, by thy election crovni'd. 
Thou hast endow'd me with a right to claim 
Thy help through this our journey, be its course 
Lengthen'd to age, or in aji hour to end ; 
And now I ask it !-• ^i nj :o^irage hold, 
And with thy free approval send me forth 
In soul apparelled for my office ! 

Clem. Go ! 
I would not have thee other than thou art, 
Living or dying ; and if thou shouldst fall—- 

Ion. Be sure I shall return, 

Cle?n. If thou shouldst fall, 
I shall be happier as the affianced bride 
Of thy cold ashes, than in proudest fortunes— 
Thine — ever thine — [She faints in kit amu 

Ion (calls,) Abra ! — So best to part— 

Enter Abra, witJi attendant^ r. 

Let her have air ; be near her through the day ; 
I know thy tenderness — should ill news come, 
Of any friend, she will require it all. 

[Abra bears Clemanthb oulf &i 
Ye gods, that have enriched the life ye claim 
With priceless treasure, strengthen ix e to yield it ! 

\ExU, k 

F\D OF ACT I. 



6cui ii vm tS 

ACT II. 

Scene I. — A terrace of ilie 'Palace, 
Adkastus, Crythes, and Guards, from the Terrac€y <o 

Adras. The air breathes freshly after our long night 
Of glorious revelry. I *11 walk awhile. 

Cry, It blows across the town : dost thou not fear 
It bear infection with it ? 

Adras, Fear ! dost talk 
Of fear to me 1 I deem'd even thy poor thoughts 
Had better scanned their master. Prithee tell me, 
In what act, word, or look, since I have borne 
Thy converse here, hast thou discerned such baseness 
As makes thee bold to prate to me of fear ] 

Cry. My liege, of human might all know thee fesrle*^ 
But may not heroes shun the elements 
When sickness taints them ? 

Adras. Let them blast me now ! — 
I stir not — tremble not ! These massive walls 
Whose date o'erawes tradition, gird the home 
Of a great race of kings, along whose line 
The eager mind lives aching, through the darkness 
Of ages else unstoried, till its shapes 
Of armed sovereigns spread to godlike port. 
And, frowning in the uncertain dawn of time. 
Strike awe, as powers who ruled an elder world, 
In mute obedience. I, sad heritor 
Of all their glories, feel our doom is nigh ; 
And I will meet it as befits their fame : 
Nor will I vary my selected path 
The breadth of my sword's edge, nor check a wi»i 
If such unkingly yielding might avert it. 

Cry, Thou art ever royal in thy thoughts. 

Adras, No more — 
[ would be private. [Exit Crythes, with guardt. « 

Grovelling parasite ! 

Why should I waste these fate-environ'd hours. 
And pledge my gi^eat defiance to despair, 
With flattereis such as thou ! — as if my joya 
c 



26 ION. .Ai # a 

Required the pale reflections cast by slaves 

In mirror'd mockery round my throne, or lacked 

The aid of reptile sympathies tc stream 

Through fate's black pageantry 1 Let weakness ssek 

Companionship : I'll henceforth feast alone. 

Enter a Soldier, u. 

Sol. My liege, forgive me. 

Adras. Well ! speak out at once 
Thy business and retire. 

Sol. I have no part 
In the presumptuous message that I bear. 

Adras. Tell it, or go. There is no time to waste 
On idle terrors. 

Sol. Thus it is, my lord : — 
As vre were burnishing our arms, a man 
Entered the court, and when we saw him first 
Was tending towards the palace ; in amaze 
We haird the rash intruder; still he walk'd 
Unheeding onward, till the western gate 
Ban^d further course : then turning, he besougbl 
Our startled band to herald him to thee. 
That he might urge a message whieh the sage^ 
Had charged him to deliver. 

Adras. Ha! the greybeards, 
Who, 'mid the altars of the gods, conspire 
To cast the image of supernal power 
From earth, its shadow consecrates. What sa§# 
Is so resolved to play the orator 
That he would die for't ] 

Sol. He is but a youth. 
Vet urgdd his prayer with a sad constancy 
Which could not be denied. 

Adras. Most bravely planned ! 
Sedition worthy of the reverent host 
Of sophist traitors ; brave to scatter fancies 
Of discontent 'midst sturdy artizans. 
Whose honest sinews they direct unseen, 
And make their proxies in the work of peri . ! 
'Tis fit, when burning to insult their king, 
Ana wram'd the pleasure must be bought with life^ 



UewMMK ^* *' 

Theii valour send a boy to speak their wisdom ! 
Thou kncw*st my last decree ; tell this rash youtii 
The danger he incurs ; then let him pass. 
And owm the king more gentle than his masters. 

Sol, We have already told him of the fate, 
Which waits his daring ; courteously he thank'd ub 
But still with solemn aspect urged his suit. 

Adras. Tell him once more, if he persists, he dies- 
Then, if he will, admit him. Should he hold 
His purpose, order Cry thes to conduct him. 
And see the headsman instantly prepare 
To do his office, [Exit Solpieu, 

So resolved, so young — 
'Twere pity he should fall ; yet he must fall. 
Or the great sceptre, which hath sway'd the fears 
Of ages, will become a common staff. 
For youth to wield or age to rest upon, 
DespoiPd of all its virtues. He must fall, 
Else, they who prompt the insult will grow bold, 
And with their pestilent vauntings through the city 
Raise the low fog of murky discontent, 
Which now creeps harmless through its marshy birth-place 
To veil my setting glories. He is wam'd ; 
And if he cross yon threshold, he shall die. 

Enter Crythes and Ion, r. 

Crr/. The king! 

Adras, Stranger, I bid thee welcome •, 
We are about to tread the same dark passage, 
Thou almost on the instant. Is the sword [ To Crytiibs 
Of justice sharpen'd, and the headsman ready ] 

Cri/. Thou mayst behold them plainly in the court ; 
Even now the solemn soldiers line the ground; 
Tho steel gleams on the altar; and the slave 
Disrobes himself for duty. 

Adras. {to Ion.) Dost thou see them ? 

Ion. I do. 

Adras. By Heaven, he does not charge I 
If, even now, thou wilt depart, and leave 
Tiiy traitorous thoughts unspoken, thou art free. 

Jan. I thank thee for thy offer ; but I stand 



S8 loit. l^A«a 

Itefcre thee fi>r the lives of thousands, rich 

In ail that makes life precious to the brave ; 

Who perish not alone, but in their fall 

Break the far spreading tendrils that they feed, 

And leave them nurtureless. If thou wilt heai* mo 

For them, I am content to speak no more. 

Adras, Thou hast thy wish then. Crythes ! till yon diol 
Casts its thin shadow on the approaching hour, 
I hear this gallant traitor. On the instant, 
Come without word, and lead him to his doom. 
Now leave us. 

Cry, What, alone 1 

Adras. Yes, slave ! alone. 
He is no assassin ! [Exit Crythbs, pv. 

Tell me who thou art. 

What generous source owns that heroic blood. 
Which holds its course thus bravely 1 What great wan 
Have nursed the courage that can look on death. 
Certain and speedy death, with placid eye ? 

Ion. I am a simple youth, who never bore 
The weight of armour, — one who may not boast 
Of noble birth or valour of his own. 
Deem not the powers which nerve me thus to speak 
In thy great presence, and have made my heart 
Upon the yerge of bloody death as calm, 
As equal in its beatings, as when sleep 
Approach' d me nestling from the sportive toils 
Of thoughtless childhood, and celestial dreams 
Began to glimmer through the deepening shadows 
Of soft oblivion, — to belong to me ! 
These are the strengths of Heaven : to thee they speak. 
Bid thee to hearken to thy people's cry. 
Or warn thee that thy hour must shortly come ! 

Adras. I know it must ; so mayst thou spare thy ^ 
ings. 
The envious gods in me have doom'd a race, 
Whose glories stream from the same cloud-girt founts, 
Whence their own dawn'd upon the infant world • 
And I shall sit on my ancestral throne 
To meet their vengeance; but, till then, I rule 
As I have ever ruled, and thou wilt feeL 



IcxaKl.J 



ION. 2ft 



Ion. I \j111 not fiirther urge thy safety to tlice ^ 
It may be, as thou sayst, too late ; nor seek 
To make thee tremble at the gathering curse 
Which shall burst fotth in mockery at thy fall : 
But thou art gifted with a nobler sense — 
I know thou art, my sovereign !— sense of pain 
Endured by myriad Argives, in whose souls, 
And in whose fathers' souls, thou and thy fathers 
Have kept their cherished state ; whose heartstrir gs, sti I 
The living fibres of thy rooted power, 
Quiver with agonies thy crimes have drawn 
From heavenly justice on them. 

Adras. How ! my crimes ? 

Ion, Yes ; 'tis the eternal law, that where guilt is. 
Sorrow shall answer it ; and thou hast not 
A poor man's privilege to bear alone. 
Or in the narrow circle of his kinsmen, 
The pennlties of evil, for in thine 
A nation'* fate lies circled. — King Adrastus ! 
Steel'd ai4 thy heart is with the usages 
Of pomp .^u^d power, a few short summers since 
Thou wert a child, and canst not be relentless. 
Oh, if maternal love embraced thee then^ 
Think of the mothers who with eyes unwet 
Glare o'er their perishing children : hast thou shared 
The glow oC a first friendship, which is bom 
'Midst the rnde sports of boyhood, think of youth 
Smittei* snr At its playthings ; let the spirit 
Of thy oi^'» mnocent childhood whisper pity ! 

Adras. In every word thou dost but steel my souL 
My youch was blasted : parents, brother, kin — 
All that should people infancy with joy — 
Conspired to poison mine ; despoil'd my life 
Of innocence and hope — all but the sword 
kai, sceptre — dost thou wcnder at me now 1 

Ion, I knew tha;t we should pity — 

Adras, Pity I dare eiif^:; 

To speak that word again, and torture waits tbee I 
^ am yet king of Argos. Well, go en — 
fhy time is short, and I am pledged to hear. 

ton. If tlou hast ever loved — 



80 ION. 



[Acf U 



AAras. Beware! beware! 

I(m, Thou hast » I see thou hast ! Thcu art n >t marble 
And thou shalt hear me ! — Think upon the time 
When the clear depths of thy yet lucid soul 
Were ruffled with the troublings of strange jo^ 
As if some unseen visitant from heaven 
Touch'd the calm lake, and wreathed its images 
In sparkling waves I Recall the dallying hope 
That on the margin of assurance trembled, 
As loth to lose in certainty too bless'd, 
Its happy being ; taste in thought again 
Of the stolen sweetness of those evening walks, 
When pansied turf was air to winged feet, 
And circling forests, by ethereal touch 
Enchanted, wore the livery of the sky, 
As if about to melt in golden light 
Shapes of one heavenly vision ; and thy heart. 
Enlarged by its new sympathy with one, 
Grew bountiful to all 1 

Adras, That tone ! that tone ! 
Whence came it ] from thy lips ! it cannot be— 
The long-hush'd music of the only voice 
That ever spake unbought affection to me, 
And waked my soul to blessing ! O sweet hours 
Of golden joy, ye come ! your glories break 
Through my pavilioned spirit's sable folds ! 
Roll on ! roll on ! Stranger, thou dost enforce ms> 
To speak of things unbreatked by lip of mine 
To human ear : wilt listen ? 

Ion, As a child. 

Adras, Again ! that voice again ! thou hast seen mm 
moved 
As never mortal saw me, by a tone 
Which some light breeze, enamour'd of the sound, 
Hath wafted through the woods, till thy young voice 
Caught it to rive and melt me. At my birth 
This city, which, expectant of its Prince, 
Lay hush'd, broke out in clamorous ecstacies ; 
Yet, in that moment, while the uplifted cups 
Foam'd with the choicest product of the sun, 
^nd welcc mo thunder'd from a thousand throats, 



Scun L] ION. 31 

My doom was sealed. From the hearth's vacaLit apaoe, 

In the dark chamber where my mother lay, 

Faint with the sense of pain-bought happiness, 

Came forth, in heart-appalHng tone, thes^e words 

Of mo the nurseling : — " Woe unto the babe ! 

" Against the life whith now begins, shall life, 

" Lighted from thence, be arm'd, and, both soon queacb'd, 

" End this great line in sorrow !" — Ere I grew 

Of years to know myself a thing accuraed, 

A second son was bom, to steal the lovQ 

Which fate had else scarce rifled : he l>5came 

My parents' hope, the darling of the crew 

Who lived upon their smiles, and thought it flattery 

To trace in every foible of my youth — 

A prince's youth ! — the workings of the curse. 

My very mother — Jove ! I cannot bear 

To speak it now — looked freezingly up'«?n me ! 

Ion. But thy brother — 

Adras. Died. Thou hast heard the lif*, 
The common lie that every peasant tells 
Of me his master, — that I slew the boy. 
'Tis false ! One summer's eve, below a s:^^g 
Which, in his wilful mood, he strove to climb. 
He lay a mangled corpse : the very slaves, 
Whose cruelty had shut him from my heart 
Now coined their own injustice into proofs 
To brand me as his murderer. 

Ion, Did they dare 
Accuse thee ? 

Adras, Not in open speech ; they felt 
T should have seized the miscreant by the lhre«t. 
And crushed the lie, half-spoken, with the life 
Of the base speaker ; but the lie look'd out 
From the stolen gaze of coward eyes, which shr snk 
When mine have met them ; murmur'd through the s^owcl 
That at the sacrifice, or feast, or game, 
Stood distant from me ; burnt into my soul 
When I beheld it in my father's shudder ! 

Ion. Didst not declare thy innocence '{ 

Adras. T 3 whom ] 
To parents w lo could doubt me ? To the ring 



32 lOH. AcPlf 

Of grave impostors, or their shallow sous. 

Who shoull have studied to prevent my wish, 

Before it grew to language ; hailed my choice 

To service as a prize to wrestle for ; 

And whose reluctant courtesy I bore, 

Pale with proud anger, till from lips compress'd 

The blood has started ? To the common herd. 

The vassals of our ancient house, the mass 

Of bones and muscles framed to till the soil 

A few brief years, then rot unnamed beneath it. 

Or, deck'd for slaughter at their master's call, 

To smite and to be smitten, and lie crush'd 

In heaps to swell his glory or his shame ] 

Answer to them 1 No ! though my hieart had burst, 

As it was nigh to bursting ! — To ti e mountains 

I fled, and on their pinnacles of sn )w 

Breasted the icy wind, in hope to cool 

My spirit's fever — struggled with the oak 

In search of weariness, and leam'd to rive 

Its stubborn boughs, till liml3S, once lightly strung^ 

Might mate in cordage with its infant stems ; 

Or on the sea-beat rock tore off the vest . 

Which burnt upon my bosom, and to air 

Headlong committed, clove the v/ater's depth 

Which plummet never sounded ; — but in vain. 

Ion. Yet succour came to thee ? 

Adras. A blessed one ! 
Which the strange magic of thy voice revives, | 

And thus unlocks my soul. My rapid steps | 

Were, in a wood-encircled valley, stayed 
By the bright vision of a maid, whose face 
Most lovely, more than loveliness reveal'd. 
In touch of patient grief, which dearer seem*d u 

Than happiness to spirit sear'd like mine. j 1 

With feeble hands she strove to lay in earth 
The body of her aged sire, whose death 
Left her alone. I aided her sad work, 
And soon two lonely ones, by holy rites, 
Bftcame one happy being. Days, weeks, rooixthi^ 
In stream-like unity flow'd silent by us 
In our deligitful nest. My father's spies^. 



flCBlIX 1.] 



ION. 33 



Slaves, wAom m^ nod shDuld have consignM to itnpefl 
Or the svnft taVhion — ^tracked our sylvan home 
Just as my bosom knew its second joy, 
And, spite of fortune, I embraced a son. 

Ion. Urged by thy trembling parents to avert 
That dreadttul prophecy ] 

Adras, Fools ! did they deem 
Its worst accomplishment could match the ill 
Which they wrought on me ? It had left unbarm'd 
A thousand ecstacies of passion'd years, 
Which, tasted once, live ever, and disdain 
Fate's iron grapple ! Could I now behold 
That son, with knife uplifted at my heart, 
A moment ere my life-blood followed it, 
I would embrace him with my dying eyes. 
And pardon destiny ! While jocund smiles 
Wreathed on the infant's face, as if sweet spirit* 
Suggested pleasant fancies to its soul, 
The ruffians broke upon us ; seized the child ; 
Dash'd through the thicket to the beetling rock 
'Neath which the deep wave eddies : I stood still 
As stricken into stone ; I heard him cry. 
Pressed by the rudeness of the murderer's gripi&, 
Severer ill unfearing — then the splash 
Of waters that shall cover him for ever ; 
And could not stir to save him ! 

Ion. And the mother — 

Adras. She spake no word, but clasped me in her armti 
And lay her down to die. A lingering gaze 
Of love she fix'd on me — none other loved,— 
And so pass'd hence. By Jupiter, her look ! 
Her dying patience glimmers in thy face ! 
She lives again ! She looks upon me now ! 
There's magic in't. Bear with me — I am childish. 

Enter Grythes, and Guards, n. 

Adras. Why art thou here 1 
Cry^ The dial points the hour. 

Adras. Dost thou not see that nonid purpose pass'd I 
Hast thou no heart — no sense 1 
Cry. Scarce half an hour 



34 iON r Act II 

Hath ft^wn since the command on which I wait. 

Adras, t^carce half an hour! — ^years — years have roll*d 
since then. 
Beg Dne ! remove that pageantry of death — 
It blasts my sight — and hearken ! Touch a hair 
Of this brave youth, or look on him as now 
With thy cold headsman's eye, and yonder band 
Shall not expect a fearful show in vain. 
Hence, without word ! [Exit Crythes, r. 

What wouldst thou have me di^ 1 

Ion. Let thy awakened heart speak its own language j 
Convene thy Sages ; — ^frankly, nobly meet then: ; 
Explore with them the pleasure of the gods, 
And, whatsoe'er the sacrifice, perform it. 

Adras, Well ! I will seek their presence in an hour ; 
Go summon them, young hero : hold ! no word 
Of the strange passion thou hast witnessed here. 

Ion, Distrust me not !-^Benignant powers, I thank ye ! 

[Exit, R. 

Adras, Yet stay — ^he's gone — ^his spell is on me yet ; 
What have I promised him 1 To meet the men 
Who from my living head would strip the crown 
And sit in judgment on me 1 — I must do it — 
Yet shall my band be ready to o'erawe 
The course of liberal speech, and, if it rise 
So as too loudly to offend my ear, 
Strike the rash brawler dead ! — A\^at idle dream 
Of long-past days had melted me ? It fades — 
It vanishes — I am again a king ! 

SCENE \l,— Tlie Interior of the Te7nple 

[SaTuc as Act I, Scene L] 

Clemanthe seated — Abra attending her, 

Ahra, liook, dearest lady ! — the thin smoke aspires 
In the calm air. as when in happier times 
It showed the gods propitious : wilt thou seeK 
Thy chamber, lest thy father and his friends, 
Retiming, find us hinderers of their council? 
She answers not — she hearkens not — with joy 



Could I believe her, for the first time, sullen 1 
Still she is rapt. 

Enter Agenor, l. 
Oh, speak to my sweet mistress ; 
Haply thy voice may rouse her. 

Agen, Dear Clemauthe, 
Hope dav/ns in every omen ; we shall hail 
Our tranquil hours again. 

Enter Medon, Cleon, Timocles, and OtTiers, u. 

Medon, Clemanthe here ! 
How sad ! hov/ pale ! 

Ahra. Her eye is kindling — ^hush i 

Clem. Hark ! hear ye not a distant footstep % 

Medon. No. 
Look round, my fairest child ; thy friends are near thee. 

Clem, Yes ! now 'tis lost — 'tis on that endless stair ! 
Nearer and more distinct — 'tis his — 'tis his — 
He lives ! he comes ! [Rises and rushes to hack of the stagtt 

at which Ion appears , c. and returns with her^ c. 
Here is your messenger, 

Whom Heaven has rescued from the tyrant's rage^ 
Ye sent him forth to brave. Rejoice, old men. 
That ye are guiltless of his blood ! — why pause y« ? 
Why shout ye not his welcome ] 

Medon, Dearest girl. 
This is no scene for thee ; go to thy chamber, 
I'll come to thee ere long. [Exeunt Clemanthe and Abiuw 
She is o'erwrought 

By fear and joy for one whose infant hopes 
Were mingled with her own, even as a brother^s. 

Tim, Ion! 
How shall we do thee honour 1 

Ion. None is due. 
Save to the gods whose gracious influence sways 
Th9 King ye deem'd relentless ; — he consents 
To meet ye presently in council : — speed ; 
This may be nature's latest rally in him. 
In fitful strength, ere it be quench'd for ever ! 

Medon. Haste to your ?eats ! I will but speak a weird 
With our brave friend, and follow ; though convened 
in speed, let our assembly lack no forms 



96 ION. (An U 

Of Jae o1>servance, which to fiinous power 
Plead with the sil^n; emphasis of years. 

[Exeunt all hut Medon and I«n, w 
Ion, draw near me ; this eventful day 
Hath shown thy nature's graces circled round 
AVith firmness which accomplishes the hero : — 
And it would bring to me but one proud thought— 
That virtues which required not culture's aid 
Shed their first fragrance 'neath my roof, and there 
Found shelter ; — but it also hath reveal'd 
What I may not hide from thee, that my child. 
My blithe and innocent girl — more fair in soul, 
More delicate in fancy, than in mould — 
Loves thee with other than a sister's love. 
I should have cared for this : I vainly deem'd 
A fellowship in childhood's thousand joys 
And household memories had nurtured friendship 
Which might hold blameless empire in the soul ; 
But in that guise the traitor hath stolen in. 
And the fair citadel is thine. 

Ion. 'Tis true. 
I did not think the nurseling of thy house 
Could thus disturb its holiest inmate's duty 
With tale of selfish passion ; — but we met 
As playmates who might never meet again. 
And then the hidden truth flash'd foith and showed 
To each the image in the other's soul 
In one bright instant. 

Medon. Be that instant blest 
Which made thee truly ours. My son ! my son ! 
'Tis we should feel uplifted, for the seal 
Of greatness is upon thee; yet I know 
That when the gods, won by thy virtues, draw 
The veil which now conceals their lofty birth-j lacc^ 
Thou wilt not spurn the maid who prized them «owJj. 

hn. Spurn her! My father! 

Enter Ctesiphon, c. 

Medim, Ctesiphon ! — and breathless- 
Art come to chide me to the council ? [Oroint §0 

Ckes. No; 
To bring 'jnwonted joy ; thy son approachea. 



: 1 



i 



IqiaiijII.j IQJf. 37 

Medon. ThankHeareuI Hast sjjoken with hi.nl ib h# 
well? 

Ctes, I strove in vain to reach him, for thq crowds 
Roused from the untended couch and dismal hearth 
By the strange visiting of hope, pressed round him ! 
But, by his head erect and fiery glance, 
I know that he is well, and that he bears 
A message which shall shake the tyrant. (Shouts tpithaut] 

See ! 
The throng is tending this way — now it parts 
And yields him to thy arms. 

Enter Phocion, l. 

Medon. Welcome, my Phocion — - 
Long waited for in Argos ; how detained 
Now matters not, since thou art here in joy. 
Hast brought the answer of the god % 

Pho. I have : 
Now let Adrastus tremble ! 

Medon. May we hear it 1 

FJio. I am sworn first to utter it to him. 

Ctes. But it is fatal to him ! — say but that ! 

PJio, Ha, Ctesiphon ! — I mark'd thee not before; 
How fares thy father ] 

Ion [to Phocion). Do not speak of him. 

Ctes, (overhearing loNyl. Not speak of him ! Dost th: xik 
there is a moment 
When common things eclipse the burning thought 
Of him and vengeance 1 

Pho. Has the tyrant's sword — 

Ctes. No, Phocion ; that were merciful and brave 
Compared to his base deed ; yet will I teil it \crosses to c, 
To make the flashing of thine eye moro deadly. 
And edge thy words that they may rive his heartstrinpfi 
The last time that Adrastus dared to face 
The Sages of the state, although my fathei 
Yielding to nature's mild decay, had left 
All worldly toil and hope, he gathered strength, 
[n his old seat to speak one word of warning. 
Thou know'st Jtiow bland with years his wisdom gro"W 
And "With what phrases, steep'c in love, he sheathM 
The shaipnesB of rebuke ; yet, ore his speech 



B8 ION [A€fU. 

Was closed, the tyrant staitec? from his th •one, 

And with his base hand smote him ;— 'twas his det»lh 'Stroke I 

The old man tottered home, and only once 

Raised his head after, 

PAo, Thou wert absent ] Yes ! 
The royal miscreant lives. 

Ctes. Had I beheld 
That sacrilege, the tyrant had lain dead, 
Or I had been torn piecemeal by his minioas. 
But I was far away ; when I returned, 
I found my father on the nearest bench 
Within our door, his thinly silver'd head 
Supported by wan hands, which hid his face, 
And would not be withdrawn ; no groan, no sigh 
Was audible, and we might only learn. 
By short convulsive tremblings of his frame, 
That life still flicker' d in it — yet at last, 
By some unearthly inspiration roused. 
He dropped his withered hands, and sat erect 
As in his manhood's glory — the free blood 
Flushed crimson through his cheeks, his furrow'd brow 
Expanded clear, and his eyes opening firll, 
Gleam'd with a youthful fire ; — I fell in awe 
Upon my knees before him — still he spake not, 
But slowly raised his arm untrembling; clench'd 
His hand as if it grasp'd an airy knife, 
And struck in air : my hand was join'd with his 
In nervous grasp — ^my lifted eye met his 
In steadfast gaze — my pressure answered his — 
We knew at once each other's thought ; a smile 
Of the old sweetness play'd upon his lips. 
And life forsook him. Weaponless I flew 
To seek the tyrant, and was driven with scofls 
From the proud gates which shelter him. He lives— 
And I am here to babble of revenge ! 

P/^o. It comes, my friend — haste with me to the king ! 

Ion, Even while we speak, Adrastus meets his council 
There let us seek him . should ye find him touched 
With penitence, as happily ye may. 
Oh, give allowance to his softened nature ! 

Ot^ SI low grace to him ! — Dost dare ? — I h^d forgot, 



Scnall.] ION. m 

Thou dost not know how a son loves a ^athei f 

loTio 1 know enough to feel for thee; I know 
Thou hast endured the vilest wrongs that tyranny 
In its worst frenzy can inflict ; — yet think, 
O think ! before the irrevocable deed 
Sliuts out all thought, how much of power's excess 
Is theirs who raise the idol : — do we gi'oan 
Beneath the personal force of this rash man, 
Who forty summers since hung at the breast 
A playful v/eakling ; whom the heat unnerves ; 
The north- wind pierces ; and the hand of death 
May, in a moment, change, to clay as vile 
As that of the scourged slave whose chains it severs t 
No ! 'tis our weakness gasping, or the shows 
Of outward strength that builds up tyranny. 
And makes it look so glorious : — If we shrink 
Faint-hearted from the reckoning of our span 
Of mortal days, we pamper the fond wish 
For long duration in a line of kings : 
If the rich pageantry of thoughts must fade, 
All unsubstantial as the regal hues 
Of eve which purpled them, our cunning frailtv 
Must robe a living image with their pomp. 
And wreathe a diadem around its brow, 
In which our sunny fantasies may live 
Empearl'd, and gleam, in fatal splendour, far 
On after ages. We must look toithin 
For that which makes us slaves ; — on sympathies 
Which find no kindred objects in the plain 
Of common life — affections that aspire 
In air too thin — and fancy's dewy film 
Floating for rest ^ for even such delicate threads, 
Gather'd by fate's engrossing hand, supply 
The eternal spindle whence she weaves the lond 
Of cable strength in which our nature struggles ! 
Ctes. Go, talk to others, if thou wilt; — to me 
All argument, save that of steel, is idle. 

Medon. No more ; — let's tc the council — there, my seo^ 
Tell Jiy great message nobly ; and for thee, 
Poo: orpnan'd youth, be sure the gods are just 1 \ Exeunt U 



I 



4D ION [Acrn 

^» ' •• ' «..- -..^ 

Scene III. — The great Square of the City. ADRASTini 
seated on atlirone ; Agenor, Timocles, Cjleon, andothers^ 
seated as Councillars — Soldiers line the Stage at a distance^ 

Adras. Upon your summons, Sages, I am here ; 
Your king attends to know your pleasure ; speak it. 

Agen, And canst thou ask ] If the heart dead within thea 
Receives no impress of this awful time, 
Art thou of sense forsaken ] Are thine ears 
So charmed by strains of slavish minstrelsy, 
That the dull groan and frenzy-pointed shriek 
Pass them unheard to Heaven ? Or are thine eyes 
So conversant with prodigies of grief, ' 

They cease to dazzle at them \ Art thou arm'd 
'Gainst wonder, while, in all things, Nature turns 
To dreadful contraries ; — while Youth's full cheek 
Is shriveird into furrows of sad years. 
And *neath its glossy curls untinged by care 
L®oks out a keen anatomy ; — while Age 
Is stung by feverish torture for an hour 
Into youth's strength ; while fragile Womanhood 
Starts into frightful courage, all unlike 
The gentle strength its gentle weakness feeds, 
To make affliction beautiful, and stalks 
Abroad, a tearless and unshuddering thing ; — 
While Childhood, in its orphan'd freedom blithe. 
Finds, in the shapes of wretchedness which seem 
Grotesque to its unsadden'd vision, cause 
For dreadful mirth, that shortly shall be hush'd 
In never-broken silence ; and while Love, 
Immortal through all change, makes ghastly Death 
Its idol, and with furious passion digs 
Amid sepulchral images for gauds 
To cheat its fancy with ] — Do sights like these 
Glare through the realm thou shouldst be parent to. 
And canst thou find the voice to ask "our pleasure 1" 

Adras. Cease, babbler ;— wherefore would ye stiiu ttif 
ears ' 

W^ith vain recital of the griefs I know. 
And cannot heal ? — will treason turn aside 
The shafts of fate, or medicine Nature's ills 1 



Scon in.] ON 4l 

I h^ve no skill in pharmacy, nor oower 
To sway the elements. 

Agen, Thou hast the power 
To cast thyself upon the earth with us 
In penitential shame : or, if this power 
Hath left a heart made weak by luxury 
And hard by pride, thou hast at least the powei 
To cease the mockery of thy frantic revels. 

Adras. I have yet power to punish insult — ^look 
I use it not, Agenor ! — Fate may dash 
My sceptre from me, but shall not command 
My will to hold it with a feebler grasp ; 
Nay, if few hours of empire yet are mine, 
They shall be cdlour'd v/ith a sterner pride, 
And peopled with more lustrous joys, than flushed 
In the serene procession of its greatness. 
Which look'd pei*petual, as the flowing course 
Of human things. Have ye beheld a pine 
That clasp'd the mountain-summit with a root 
As firm as its rough marble, and, apart 
From the huge shade of undistinguished trees, 
Lifted its head as in delight to share 
The evening glories of the sky, and taste 
The wanton dalliance of the heavenly breeze. 
That no ignoble vapour from the vale 
Could mingle with — smit by the flaming marl, 
And lighted for destruction ] How it stood 
One glorious moment, fringed and wreathed with fire 
Which show'd the inward graces of its shape, 
Uncumber'd now, and midst its topmost boughs, 
That young Ambition's airy fancies made 
Their giddy nest, leap'd sportive ; — ^never clad 
By liberal summer in a pomp so rich 
As waited on its downfall, while it took 
The storm-cloud roird behind it for a curtain. 
To gird its splendours round, and made the blast 
Its minister to whirl its flashing shreds 
Aloft towards heaven, or to the startled depltha 
Of forests that afar might share its doom ! 
So shall the royalty of ArgCfi pass 
in fiMta2 blaze tc darkness ! Have ye spoken 



Agen I speak no more to thee! — Great Jcre, IxJj 

aown! [Shouts without. 

Adras. What factious brawl is this 1 disperse it, soldiers 
[Shouting renewed. — As some of t/ie soldiers are about to/narck^ 
Phocion rushes in, followed by Ctesiphon, Ion and Medon 
Whence is this insolent intrusion ] 

Fho. King! 
I bear Apollo's answer to thy prayer. 

Adras, Has not thy travel taught thy knee its duty ? 
Here we had schoord thee better. 

Pho, Kneel to thee ! 

Medon, Patience, my son ! Do homage to the kin-g. 

Pho, Never!— Thou talk'st of schooling— know, Adrastus 
That I have studied in a nobler school, 
Than the dull haunt of venal sophistry, 
Or the lewd guard-room ; — o'er which ancient Heaven 
Extends its arch for all, and mocks the span 
Of palaces and dungeons; where the heart 
In its free beatings, 'neath the coarsest vest, 
Claims kindred with diviner things than power 
Of kings can raise or stifle — in the school 
Of mighty Nature — where I leam'd to blush 
At sight like this, of thousands basely hush'd 
Before a man no mightier than themselves, 
Save in the absence of that love that softens. 

Adras. Peace ! speak thy message. 

Plio, Shall I tell it here ] 
Or shall I seek thy couch at dead of night. 
And breathe it in low whispers ! — As thou wilt, 

Adras, Here — and this instant ! 

Pho, Hearken then, Adrastus, 
And hearken, Argives — thus Apollo speaks : — 
(Reads a scroll) " Argos ne'er shall find release 

Till her monarch's race shall cease." 

Adras, 'Tis not God's will, but man's sedition speaks 
Guards ! tear that lying parchment from b:s hands^ 
And bear him to the palace. 

Medon, Touch him not, — 
He is Apollo's messenger, whose lips 
Were never stain'd with falsehood. 

Pho Come on, all ! 



icwBalll.] ON. ^ 

Agen, Surround him, friends ! Die with him f 
Adras, Soldiers^ charge 
Upon these rebels ; hew them down. On ! on! 

[The Soldiers advance and surround the people: theji 
teize Phocion. Ion rushes from the hack of the stage, and 
throws himself between Adrastus and Phocion. 

PJiO, {to Adrastus.) Yet I defy thee. 

Ion. {to Phocion.) Friend ! for sake of all, 
Enrage him not — wait while I speak a word — 
My sovereign, I implore thee, do not stain '[rt? Adrastcj» 
This sacred place with blood : in Heaven^s great name 
I do conjure thee — and in hers, whose spirit 
Is mourning for thee now ! 

Adras, Release the stripling — 
Let him go spread his treason where he will. 
He is not worth my anger. To the palace ! 

Ion, Nay, yet an instant ! — let my speech have power 
From Heaven to move thee further : thou hast heard 
Tne sentence of the god, and thy heart owns it ; 
If thou wilt cast aside this cumbrous pomp. 
And in seclusion purify thy soul 
Long fever'd and sophisticate, the gods 
May give thee space for penitential thoughts ; 
If not — as surely as thou standest here. 
Wilt thou lie stiff and weltering in thy blood, — 
The vision presses on me now. 

Adras. Art mad ? 
Resign my state ] Sue to the gods for life. 
The common life which every slave endures, 
And meanly clings to ? No ; within yon walls 
I shall resume the banquet, never more 
Broken by man's intrusion. Councillors, 
Farewell ! — go mutter treason till ye perish ! 

[Exeunt Adrastus, Crythes and Soldiers, l. 

Ion. (stands apart leaning on a pedestal,) 'Tis seal'd! 
Mcdon. Let us w thdraw, and strive 
By sacrifice to pacify the gods ! [Medon, Agencr, and 
Count'Ulors retire ; they leave CTESiFiioNy Phocion aTtd 
Ion. Ion still stands apart, as rapt in meditation^ 



44 lOSfe [AvrU 

Ctes. 'Tiswell; the measure of his guilt is fiTa 
Where shall we meet at sunset 1 

Pko In the grove 
Which with its matted shade imbrowns the vale : 
Between those buttresses of rock that guard 
The sacred mountain on its western side, 
Starids a rude altar — overgrown with moss, 
And stain'd with drippings of a million showers, 
So old, that no tradition names the power 
That hallowed it, — which we will consecrate 
Anew to freedom and to justice. 

Cies. Thither, 
Will I bring friends to meet thee. Shall we speak 
To yon rapt youth ] \Pomting to Ion 

Pko. His nature is too gentle, 
sunset we will meet. — With arms 1 

Cies. A knife — 
One sacrificial knife will serve. 

Pko. At sunset ! [Exeunt Ctesiphon r. Phocion c.l. 

Ion f comes forward). O, wretched man, thy words ha va 
seal'd thy doom ! 
Why should I shiver at it, when no way, 
Save this, remains to break the ponderous clcud 
That hangs above my wretched country % — death — 
A single death, the common lot of all, 
Which it will not be mine to look upon, — 
And yet its ghastly shape dilates before me \ 
I cannot shut it out ; my thoughts grow rigid, 
And as that grim and prostrate figure haunts then: 
My sinews stiffen like it. Courage, Ion ! 
No spectral form is here; all outward things 
Wear their own old familiar looks ; no dye ^ 

Pollutes them. Yet the air has scent of blood, [ 

And now it eddies with a hurtling sound, 
As if some W3apon swiftly clove it. No — • 
The falchion's course is silent as the grave f 

That yawns before its victim. Gracious p M^eiB ! 
If the gi'eat duty of my life be near, 
Gr^t it may be to suffer, not to strike ! f.BaMf> E* 

END OF ACT II. 



I.] ION 4^ 



ACT III. 

SCENE I.— ^ Terrace of He Temple. 

Enter Clemanthe and Ion. r. 

Clem. Nay, I must chide this sorrow from thy brow 
Or 'twill rebuke my happiness ; — ^I know 
Too well the miseries that hem us round ; 
And yet the inward sunshine of my soul, 
Unclouded by their melancholy shadows, 
Bathes in its deep tranquillity one image — 
One only image, which no outward storm 
Can ever ruffle. Let me wean thee, then, 
From this vain pondering o'er tho general woe. 
Which makes my joy look ugly. 

Ion. No, my fair one, 
The gloom that wrongs thy love ia iinrrdeem'd 
By generous sense of oth^.rs' woe ; too sure 
It rises from dark presages within, 
And will not from me. 

Clem. Then it is most groundlojs ! 
Hast thou not won the blessing of the perching 
By constancy, the fame of which shall live 
While a heart beats in Aigos ? — ^hast thou w:X 
Upon one agitated bosom poured 
The sweetest peace ? and can thy generous natuv"?^ 
While it thus sheds felicity around it, 
Remain itself unbless'd ] 

Ion. I strove awhile 
To think the assured posse.'^c^ion of thy love 
With too divine a burthen weighed my heart, 
And press'd my soirits down : — ^but 'tis not so 
Nor will I v^th false tenderness beguile thee, 
By feigning that my sadness has a cause 
So exquisite ! Clemanthe ! thou wilt find ma 
A sad compani 3n ; — I who knew not life. 
Save as the sportive breath of happiness. 
Now feel my minutes teeming, as they rise, 
With grave experiences ; 1 dream no more 



46 ION. [Actin 

Of azure realms where restless beauty sports 

In myriad shapes fantastic ; dismal vaults 

In black succession open, till the gloom 

Afar is broken by a streak of fire 

That shapes my name — the fearful wind that moans 

Before the storm articulates its sound; 

And as I pass'd but n( w the solemn range 

Of Argive monarchs, that in sculptured mockery 

Of present empire sit, their eyes of stone 

Bent on me instinct with a frightful life, 

That drew me into fellowship with them, 

As conscious marble ; while their ponderous lips- • 

Fit organs of eternity — unclosed. 

And, as I live to tell thee, murmur'd, " Hail ! 

Hail! Ion the devoted!'* 

Clem, These are fancies, 
Which thy soul, late expanded with great pui-pose, 
Shapes, as it quivers to its natural circle 
In which its joys should lurk, as in the bud 
The cells of fragrance cluster. Bid them from thee, 
And strive to be thyself. 

Ion, I will do so ! 
I'll gaze upon thy loveliness, and drink 
Its quiet in ; — how beautiful thou art !— 
My pulse throbs now as it was wont ; — a being 
Which owns so fair a glass to mirror it, 
Cannot show darkly. 

Clem. We shall soon be happy ; 
My father will rejoice to bless our love, 
And Argos waken ; — for her tyrant's course 
Must have a speedy end. 

Ion, It must ! It must 1 

Clem, Yes ; for no empty talk of public wrongs 
Assails him now ; keen hatred and revenge 
Are roused to crush him. 

Ion, Not by such base agents 
May the august lustration be achieved : 
He who shall cleanse his country from the guilt 
For which Heaven smites her, should be pure of soo] 
Guileless as infancy, and undisturbed 
By personal anger as thy father is, 



telOTBl.] ION. tl 

When, with unswerving hand and piteous eye. 
He stops the brief life of the innocent kid 
Bound witn white fillets to the altar ; — so 
En wreathed by fate the royal victim heaves, 
And soon his breast shall shrink beneath the knife 
Of the selected slayer ! 

Clem. 'Tis thyself 
Whom thy strange language pictures — Ion ! thou-— 

Ion, She has said it ! Her pure lips have spoken out 
What all things intimate : — didst thou not mark 
Mc for the office of avenger — me ? 

Clem, No ; — save from the wild picture that thy fancy- 
Thy overwrought fancy drew ; I thought it look'd 
Too like thee, and I shudder'd. 

Ion, So do I ! 
And yet I almost wish I shudder'd more, 
For the dire thought has grown familiar with me— - 
Could I escape it ! 

Clem, 'Twill away in sleep. 

Ion, No, no ! I dare not sleep — for well I know 
That then the knife will gleam, the blood will gush, 
The form will stiffen ! — I wdll walk awhile 
In the sweet evening light, and try to chase 
These fearful images away. 

Clem, Let me 
Go with thee. Oh, how often, hand in hand, 
In such a lovely light have we roam'd westward 
Aimldss and blessed ; when we were no more 
Than playmates : — surely we are not grown stranger 
Since yesterday ! 

Ion, No, dearest, not to-night : 
The plague yet rages fiercely in the vale, 
And I am placed in grave commission here 
To watch the gates ; — indeed, thou must not paso ; 
I will oe merrier when we meet again, — 
Trust me, my love, I will ; farewell ! [ Exit^ l 

Clem, Farewell, then ! 
How fearful disproportion shows in Due 
Whose life hath been all harmony ! He bends 
Toward that thick covert where in blessed hour 
Wy father found him, which has ever been 



48^ ION. [AcwIU 

His chosen place of musing. Shall I folio\i t 

Am I already grown a selfish mistress, 

To watch his solitude with jealous eye, 

And claim him all 1 That let me never be^ 

Yet danger from within besets him now, 

Known to me only — I will follow him ! Shdi, U' 

Scene II. — An opening in a deep Wood — in front em "Ji 

gray Altar, 

Enter Ion. 
Ion. O winding pathways, o'er whose scanty bladof 
Of unaspiring grass mine eyes have bent 
So often when by musing fancy sway'd. 
That craved alliance with no wider scene 
Than your fair thickets bordered, but was pleased 
To deem the toilsome years of manhood flown. 
And, on the pictured mellowness of age 
Idly reflective, image my return 
From careful wanderings, to find ye gleam 
With unchanged aspect on a heart unchanged, 
And melt the busy past to a sweet dream 
As then the future was ; — why should ye now 
Echo my steps with melancholy sound. 
As ye were conscious of a guilty presence % 
The lovely light of eve, that, as it waned. 
Touched ye with softer, homelier look, now fades 
In dismal blackness ; and yon twisted roots 
Of ancient trees, with wnose fantastic forms 
My thoughts grew humourous, look tenible. 
As if about to start to serpent life. 
And hiss around me ; — whither shall I turn % — 
Where fly % — I see the myrtle-cradled spot 
Where human love, instructed by divine. 
Found and embraced me first ; lUl cast me down 
Upon the eaith as on a mother's breast, 
In hope to feel myself again a child. 

[Retires into the tvoo^. 
Enter Ctesiphon, Cassander, and other Argive Youths. 

Ctes. Sure this must be the place that Phocion spoke of ;— 
The twilight deepens, yet he does not come. 



leunell] 



10!^. 4B 



Oh, if, insteai of idle dreams of freedom. 
He knew the sharpness of a grief like mine. 
He would not linger thus ! 

Cass, The sun's broad disk 
Of misty red, a few brief minutes since. 
Sank 'neath the leaden wave ; but night steals m 
With rapid pace to veil us, and thy thoughts 
Are eager as the favouring darkness. 

Enter Phocion, 

Ctes, Welcome ! 
Thou know' St all here. 

Pho, Yes ; I rejoice, Cassander, 
To find thee my companion in a deed 
Worthy of all the dreamings of old days, 
When we, two rebel youths, grew safely btavb 
In visionary perils. We'll not shame 
Our young imaginations. Ctesiphon, 
We look to thee for guidance in our aim. 

Ctes. I bring you glorious news. There is a soldiejt. 
Who, in his reckless boyhood, was my comrade, 
And though by taste of luxury subdued 
Even to brook the tyrant's service, bums 
With generous anger to avenge that grief 
I bear above all others. He has made 
The retribution sure. From him I learnt. 
That when Adrastus reached his palace court. 
He paused, to struggle with some mighty throe 
Of passion ; then call'd eagerly for wine. 
And bade his soldiers snare his choicest stores. 
And snatch, like him, a day from Fortune. Soon, 
As one worn out by watching and excess. 
He stagger'd to his couch, where now he lies 
Oppress'd with heavy sleep, while his loose soldier*. 
Made by the fierce carousal vainly mad 
Or grossly dull, are scatter'd through the courts 
Unann'd and cautionless. The eastern porta! 
Is at this moment open ; by that gate 
We all may enter unperceived, and line 
The passages which gird the royal chamber 
While o le blest hand within completes the dc oin 



60 ION. I let 111 

Which Heaven pronounces. Nothing now remains. 
But that, as all would share this action's glory, 
We join in one gi'eat vow, and choose one arm 
Our common minister. Oh, if these sorrows 
Confer on me the office to return 
Upon the tyrant's shivering heart the blow 
Which crush'd my father's spirit, I will leave 
To him who cares for toys the patriot's laurel 
And the applause of ages ! 

Fho, Let the gods 
By the old course of lot reveal the name 
Of the predestined champion. For myself, 
Here do 1 solemnly devote all powers 
Of soul and body to that glorious purpose 
We live but to fulfil. 

Ctes. And 1 1 

Cass. And I ! 

Ion, {who has advanced from the wood^ rushes to the altai 
and exclaims) And I ! 

Fho, Most welcome ! The serenest powers of justice, 
In prompting thy unspotted soul to join 
Our bloody councils, sanctify and bless them ! 

Ion, The gods have prompted me ; for they have given 
One dreadful voice to all things which should be 
Else dumb or musical ; and I rejoice 
To step from the grim round of waking dreams 
Into this fellowship which makes all clear. 
Wilt trust me, Ctesiphon ] 

Ctes, Yes ; but we waste 
The precious minutes in vain talk ; if lots 
Must guide us, have ye scrolls % 

Pho, Cassander has them ; 
Tl e flickering light of yonder glade will serve him 
To inscribe them with our names. Be quick, Cassander I 

Ctes, I wear a casque, beneath whose iron circlet 
My father's dark hairs whiten' d ; let it hold 
The names of his avengers ! 

[Ctesiphon idJces off his licmlet and gives it to CassandkBi 

who retim with it k* 
Pfio (to Ctesiphox.) He whose name 



ScMsm ij vysf. 61 

Thou shalt draw first shall fill the post of glory. 
Were it not also well, the second name 
Should designate another, charged to take 
The same great office, if the fii'st should 'eave 
His work imperfect ] 

Ctes, There can scarce do need ; 
Yet as thou wilt. May the first chance be mine ! 
«. will leave little for a second arm ! 

[C AS SANDER Tctums witli the hehnei 

Ctes. Now, gods, decide ! 

[Ctesiphon draws a lot from the helmet 

Pho. The name ! Why dost thou pause 1 

Ctes. 'Tis Ion ! 

Ion, Well I knew it would be mine ! 

[Ctesiphon draws another lot. 

Ctes, Phocion ! it will be thine to strike him dead 
If he should prove faint-hearted. 

Fho, With my life 
ril answer for his constancy. 

Ctes, {to lo^,) Thy hand! 
Tis cold as death. 

I(m, Yes, but it is as firm. 
What ceremony riext ] 

[Ctesiphon leads Ion to the altar , a?id gives him a knifi, 

Ctes, Receive this steel, 
JFor ages dedicate in my sad home 
To sacrificial uses ; grasp it nobly. 
And consecrate it to untrembling service 
Against the king of Argos and his race. 

Ion, His race ! Is he not left alone on earth ? 
He hath no brother, and no child. 

Ctes, Such words 
The god hath used, who never speaks in vain. 

Pho, There were old rumours of an infant boru. 
And strangely vanishing ; — a tale of guilt 
Half hush'd, perchance distorted in the hushing, 
And by the wise scarce heeded, for they deem'd it 
One of a thousand guilty histories, 
Which, if the walls of palaces could speak. 
Would show that, nursed by prideful luxury, 
To pamper which the virtuouF peasant toils. 



68 ION. f 4ct 111 

Crimes grow unpunished; which the pirate's nest, 
Or want's foul hovel, or the cell which justice 
Keeps for unlicensed guilt, would startle at ! . , 
We must root out the stock, that no stray scion 
Renew the tree, whose branches, stifling virtue, 
Shed poison-dews on joy. 

[Ion approaches the altar, and lifting up the knife, speaki 
— ^Ye eldest gods. 
Who in no statues of exactest form 
Are palpable ; who shun the azure heights 
Of beautiful Olympus, and the sound 
Of ever-young Apollo's minstrelsy ; 
Yet, mindful of the empire which ye held 
Over dim Chaos, keep revengeful watch 
On falling nations, and on kingly lines 
About to sink forever ; ye, who shed 
Into the passions of earth's giant brood 
And their fierce usages the sense of justice j 
Who clothe the fated battlements of tyranny 
With blackness as a funeral pall, and breathe 
Through the proud halls of time-embolden'd guilt 
Portents of ruin, hear me ! — In your presence, 
For now I feel ye nigh, I dedicate 
This arm to the destruction of the king 
And of his race ! Oh ! keep me pitiless ; 
Expel all human weakness from my frame, 
That this keen weapon shake not when his heart , ^ 

Should feel its point ; and if he has a child 
Whose blood is needful to the sacrifice 
My country asks, harden my soul to shed it ! — i '^ 

Was not that thunder? ' 

Ctes, No; I heai-d no sound. 
Now, mark me. Ion ! Thou shalt straight be led 
To the king's chamber ; we shall be at hand ; 
Nothing can give thee pause. Hold ! one should watch 
The city's eastern portal, lest the troops. 
Returning from the work of plunder home, ^' 

Surround us unprepared. Be that thy duty. 4 

[ To PflOCIOM 

Ph/}, I am to second Ion if he fail. 

Ctes He cann )t fail ; — I shall be nigh. What, Ion ! 



^CClTElI.] ION- 63 

Ion, Wlio spake -o .nel Where am 1 1 Friends, your 
pardon : 
I arc prepared ; yet grant me for a moment, 
One little moment, to be left alone. 

Ctes, Be brief then, or the season of revenge 
Will pass. At yonder thicket we'll expect thee. 

\ Exeunt all but Tox, l. 

Ian. Methinks I breathe more freely, now my lot 
Is palpable, and mortals gird me round, 
Though my soul owns no sympathy with theirs. 
Some one approaches — I must hide this knife- 
Hide ! I have ne'er till now had aught to hide 
Prom any human eye. [He conceals the knife in his vat 

Enter Clemanthe, u. e. l, 

Clemanthe here ! 

Clem, Forgive me that I break upon thee thus : 
I meant to watch thy steps unseen ; but night 
Is thickening ; thou art haunted by sad fancies 
And 'tis more terrible to think upon thee, 
Wandering with such companions in thy bosom. 
Than in the peril thou art wont to seek 
Beside the bed of death. 

Ion, Death, say'st thou ? Death 1 
Is it not righteous when the gods decree It] 
And brief its sharpest agony ] Yet, fairest, 
It is no theme for thee. Go in at once, 
And think of it no more. 

Clem, Not without thee ! 
Indeed, thou art not well ; thy hands are marble ; 
Thine eyes are fixed ; let me support thee, love— 
Ha ! what is that gleaming within thy vest ? 
A knife ! Tell me its purpose. Ion ! 

Ion, No ; 
My oath forbids. 

Clem, An oath ! Oh, gentle Ion, 
What can have linked thee to a cause which needs 
A stronger cement than a good man's word ] 
There's danger in it. Wilt thou keep it from me t 

Ion* Alas I must. Thou wilt know all full soon— 

[ Voices without call " loo I " u 



64 ION [Act III 

Hark ! I am call'd. 

Clem Nay, do not leave me thus. 

Ion *Tis very sad [voices again) — I dare not stay- 
farewell ! [Exit, Ist. I. L 

Clem, It must be to Adrastus that he hastes ! 
If by his hand the fated tyrant die, 
Austere remembrance of the deed will hang 
Upon his delicate spirit like a cloud, 
And tinge its world of happy images 
With hues of horror. Shall I to the palace, 
And, as the price of my disclosure, claim 
His safety 1 No ! — 'Tis never woman's part 
Out of her fond misgivings, to perplex 
The fortunes of the man to whom she cleaves ; 
'Tis hers to weave all that she has of fair 
And bright in the dark meshes of their web, 
Inseparate from their windings. My poor heart 
Hath found its refuge in a hero's love, 
Whatever de^'iny his generous soul 
Shape for him ; — 'tis its duty to be &till, 
And trust him till it bound or break with his. [Exit, l. 

Scene III. — A cliamher in tlie Temple, 
Enter Medon, followed hy Abra, r. 

Medon, My daughter not within the temple, sayet th( u I 
Abroad at such an hour ? Sure, not alone 
She wandered : tell me truly, did not Phocion 
Or Ion bear her company ] 'Twas Ion — 
Confess — was it not he 1 I shall not chide. 
Indeed I shall not. 

Abra, She went forth alone ; 
But it is true that Ion just before 
Had taken the same path. 

Medon. It was to meet him. 
I would they were returned : the night is growt 
Of an unusual blackness. Some one comes- «- 
Look if it be my daughtBr. 

Ahra (looking out J. No : young Irus, 
The little slave, whose pretty tale of grief 
anor, with so gracious a rpspect. 



BewMMllL} K>N. 55 

he bears 



This momiDg told us, 

Medon. Let him come : he be 
Seine message from his master. 



Enter Irus, l. 

Medon (to Irus) Thou art pale : 
Has any evil happened to Agenor ] 

Irus, No, my good lord : I do not :.ome fixm him | 
I bear to thee a scroll from one who now 
Is numbered with the dead; he was my kinsman, 
But I had nevei seen him till he lay 
Upon his death-bed ; for he left these shores 
Long before I was born, and no one knew 
His place of exile. On this mournful day 
He landed, was plague-stricken, and expired. 
My gentle master gave me leave to tend 
His else unsolaced death-bed ; when he found 
The clammy chillness of the grave steal on. 
He called for parchment, and, with trembling hand, 
That seem'd to gather firmness from its task, 
Wrote earnestly ; conjured me take the scroll 
Instant to thee — and died. [Irus gives a scroll to MEDOif. 

Medon (reading the sa'oll). These are high tidings. 
Abra ! is not Clem an the come % I long 
To tell her all. 

Unter Clemanthe. 

Medon. Sit down, my pensive child. 
Abra, this boy is faint • see him refreshed 
With food and wine before thou lett'st him pass. 

Irus. I have been too long absent from Agenor 
Wlio needs my slender help. 

Medon. Nay, I will use 
Thy master's firmness here, and use it so 
As he would use it. Keep him prisoner, Abra, 
Till he has done my bidding. [Exeunt Abra andlvivs^ B« 
Now, Clemanthe, 

Though thou hast play'd the truant and the rebel, 
I will not be too strict in my award. 
By keeping from thee news of one to thee 
Most dear — nay, do not blush — I say most dear, 

Clem. It is of Ion ! No, — I do not blush. 



66 ION [Act in 

But tremble. O my father, \\hat of Icn i 

Medon. How often have we guessed his lineage noble I 
And now 'tis proved. The kinsman of that youth 
Was with another hired to murder him 
A babe ; — they tore him from his mother's breast, 
And to a sea-girt summit, where a rock 
O'eihung a chasm, by the surge's force 
Made terrible, rush'd with him. As the gods 
In mercy ordered it, the foremost ruffian. 
Who bore no burden, pressing through the gloom 
In the wild hurry of his guilty purpose. 
Trod at the extreme verge upon a crag 
Loosen'd by summer from its granite bed, 
And suddenly fell with it ; with his fall 
Sank the base daring of the man who held 
The infant ; so he placed the unconscious babo 
Upon the spot where it was found by me ; 
Watched till he saw the infant safe ; then fled, 
Fearful of question ; and returned to die. 
That child is Ion. Whom dost guess his sire ? 
The first in Argos ! 

Clem, Dost thou mean Adrastus 1 
He cannot — must not — ^be that tyrant's son ! 

Medon. It is most certain. Nay, ray thankless giri, 
He hath no touch of his rash father's pride ; 
For Nature, from whose genial lap he smiled 
Upon us first, hath moulded for her ov/n 
The suppliant of her bounty ; — thou art bless'd : 
Thus, let me bid thee joy. 

Clem, Joy, sayst thou 1 — joy ! 
Then I must speak — ^he seeks Adrastus' life ! 
And at this moment, while we talk, may stain 
His soul with parricide. 

Medon. Impossible ! 
Ion, the gentlest — 

Clem. It is true, my father ! 
I saw the weapon gleaming in his vest j 
heard him called ! 

Medon. Shall I alarm the palace 1 

Clem. No : in the fierce confusion, he would fidi 
Before our tale could be his safeguard. Gods I 
b there no hope, no refuge 1 



iesnel.] ION. VI 

Medon, Ye3f if Heaven 
Assist us. I bethink me of a passage, 
Which, lashioned by a king in pious zeal. 
That he might seek the altar of the god 
in secret, from the temple's inmost shrine 
Leads to the roya' chamber. I have tracked it 
In youth for pastime. Could I tread it now, 
I yet might save him. 

Clem. Oh, make haste, my father ! 
Shall I attend thee ? 

Medon. No : thou would'st impede 
My steps : — thou 'rt fainting ! when I have lodged thee safe 
In thy ovm chamber, I will light the torch 
And instantly set forward. 

Clem. Do not waste 
An instant's space on me : speed, speed, my father ! 
The fatal moments fly — I need no aid ; — 
Thou seest I am calm, quite calm. 

Medon. The gods protect thee ! 

YExeu7it Medon l., Clemanthe r 

END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — The royal CJiamher. 
Adrastus on a couch asleep. — Enter Ion with the knift^ 

Ion. Why do I creep thus stealthily along 
With trembling steps % Am I not arm'd by Heaven 
To execute its mandate on a king 
Whom it hath doom'd ? And shall I alter now. 
While every moment that he breathes may ciiish 
Some life else happy % — Can I be deceived. 
By some foul passion, crouching in my soul, 
Wliich takes a radiant form to lure me on ? 
Assure me, gods ! — Yes ; I have heard your voices ; 
For 1 dare pray ye i\ow tc nerve my arm 
And see me strike ! [ He goes to the couch 



53 iwN. [iciif 

He's smiling in his slumber, 

i\s if some happy thought of innocent days 

Play'd at his heait-strings : must I scare it theace 

With death's sharp agony ] He lies condemned 

By the hig}_ judgment of supernal Powers, 

And he shall know their sentence. Wake, Adrastuft ! 

Collect thy spirits, and be strong to die ! 

Adras. Who dares disturb my rest ] Guards ! Soldiers 
Recreants ! 
Where taiTy ye ] Why smite ye not to earth 
This bold intruder ? — Ha, no weapon here ! 
What wouldst thou with me, ruffian ] \Rcr.ing 

Ion, I am none, 
But a sad instrument in Jove's great hand 
To take thy life, long forfeited — Prepare ! 
Thy hour is come ! 

Adras. Villains ! does no one hear ? 

Ion, Vex not the closing minutes of thy being 
With torturing hope, or idle rage ; thy guards, 
Palsied with revelry, are scattered senseless, 
While the most valiant of our Argive youths 
Hold every passage by which human aid 
Could reach thee. Present death is the award 
Of Powers who watch above me, while I stand 
To execute their sentence. 

Adras, Thou ! — I know thee — 
The youth I spared this morning, in whose ear 
I pour'd the secrets of my bosom. Kill me, 
If thou dar'st do it : but bethink thee, first. 
How the grim memory of thy thankless deed 
Will haunt thee to the grave ! 

Ion, It is most true ; 
Thou sparedst my life, anl therefore do the gjds 
Ordair me to this office, lest thy fall 
Seem the chance forfeit of some single sin, 
And not the great redress of Argos. Now— 
Now, while I parley — Spirits that have left, 
Witliin this hour, thev' plague-tormented flesh 
To rot untombed, gbde by, and frown on me. 
Their slow avenrrer — and the chamber swarms 
With looks of Fujies — Yet a moment wait, 



Scznl.] ION. 61 

Ye dreadful prompters ! — If there is a friend, 
Whom, dying, thou wouldst greet by word or tokeiit 
Speak thy last bidding. 

Aclras, I have none on earth. 
If thou nast courage, ejad me ! 

Ion. Not one friend ! 
Most piteous doom ! 

Adras, Art melted % 

Ion. If I am, 
Hope nothing from my weakness ; mortal arms, 
And eyes unseen that sleep not, gird us round, 
And we shall fall together. Be it so ! 

Adras, No ; strike at once ; my hour is come : in chee 
I recognize the minister of Jove, 
And, kneeling thus, submit me to his power. \ KneeU 

Ion. Avert thy face ! 

Adras. No ; let me meet thy gaze ; 
For breathing pity lights thy features up 
Into more awful likeness of a form 

Which once shone on me ; and which now my sen^e" - > 
Shapes palpable — in habit of the grave. 
Inviting me to the sad realm where shades 
Of innocents, whom passionate regard 
Linked with the guilty, are content to pace 
With them the margin of the inky flood 
Moun^ful and calm ; 'tis surely there ; she waves 
Her pallid hand in circle o'er thy head. 
As if to bless thee — and I bless thee too. 
Death's gracious angel ! — Do not turn away. 

Ion. G-ods ! to what office have ye doom'd me — Now ! 

[Ion raises his arm to stah Adrastus, wJio is hnechn^ 
and gazes steadfastly upon liim. The voice of Medon « 
ieard without, calling, " Ion !" *' Ion !" Ion drojys his arm, 

Adras. B\i quick, or thou art lost ! 

. [As Ion has again raised his arm to <rik%^ 
Medon rushes in behind him^ c, 

Medon. Ion, forbear. 
Beliold thy son, Adrastus ! 

[Ion stands for a moment stupifed with hwror, drops th^. 
Inife, and falls senseless on the ground 



*0 ION. [Act I^ 

Adias. What strange >yords 
Are these, which call my senses from the death 
They were composed to welcome ] Son ! 'tis false— 
I had but one — and the deep wave rolls o'er him ! 

Medon. That v/ave received, instead of the fair nurselhig 
One of the slaves who bore him frDm thy sight 
In wicked haste to slay; — I'll give thee proofs. 

Adras. Great Jove, I thank thee ! — ^raise him gently— 
proofs ! 
Are there not here the lineaments of her 
Who made me happy once — the voice, now still, 
That bade the long-sealed fount of love gush out, 
While with a prince's constancy he came 
To lay his noble life down ; and the sure, 
The dreadful proof, that he whose guilelsss brow 
Is instinct with her spirit, stood above me, 
Arm'd for the traitor's deed ! — It is my child ! 

[Ion, reviving, sinks on one knee before Adrastus. 

Ion. Father ! [Noise withaul 

Medon. The clang of arms ! 

Ion (starting up). They come ! they come ! 
They who are leagued with me against thy life 
Here let us fall ! 

Adras. I will confront them yet. 
Within I have a weapon which has drunk 
A traitor's blood ere now ; — there will I wait them : 
No power less strong than death shall part us now. 
\Kxcunt Adrastus and Ion, as into an inner cJiamher u. e. i 

Medon. Have mercy on him, gods, for the dear sake 
Of your most single-hearted worshipper ! 

Enter Ctesiphon, Cassander, and others, l 
Ctes. What treachery is this ]— the tyrant fled, 

And Ion fled too ! — Comrades, stay this dotard. 

While I search yonder chamber. 
Medon. Spare him, friends, — 

Spare him to clasp awhile his new-found son; 

Spar 3 him as Ion's father! 
Ctes. Father! yes - 

That is indeed a name to bid me spare : — 

r^et me but find him, gods ! {Rushes into an inner ciamim 



•cnii:!.^ ION. 9 

Medon (To Cissander ayid otJiet'sj, Hau ye cut seen 
What I have seen, ye would have mercy on him 

Crythes enters with Soldiers^ r. 

Ha, soldiers ! hasA^en to. defend your master; 
That way — 

\As Crythes Z5 ahout to enter the inner chamhcr u, e. l, 
Ctesiphon rushes from it with a bloody dagger , and stajM 
{hem. 

Gtes, It is accomplished : the foul blot 
Is wiped away. Sliade of my murdered father, 
Look on thy son, and smile ! 

Cry. Whose blood is that ? 
It cannot be the king's ! 

Gtes. It cannot be ! 
Think'st thou, foul minion of a tyrant's will, 
He was to crush, and thou to crawl for ever 1 
Look there, and tremble ! 

Cry. Wretch ! thy life shall pay 
The forfeit of this deed. 

[Crythes and soldiers seize CrE«?iPHO^ 
JE^^^er Adrastus mortally wounded, supported byl'iSt u. E. L. 

Adras. Here let me rest ; — 
In this old chamber did my life begin. 
And here Til end it : Crythes ! thou hast timed 
Thy visit well, to bring thy soldiers hither 
To gaze upon my parting. 

Cry. To avenge thee ; — 
Here is the traitor! 

Adras. Set him free at once : — 
Why do ye not obey me 1 Ctesiphon, 
I gave thee cause for this ; — believe me now 
That thy true steel has made thy vengeance sure ; 
And as we now stand equal, I will sue 
For a small boon — ^let me not see thee more. 

Ctes, Farewell ! [Exit^ m 

Adras. ( To Crythes and soldiers.) ^Vhy d'^ ye tan^ 
here % 
Begone ! — Jitill do ye hover round my couch ? 
If the commandment of a dying king 



62 ION. r^AjV If 

Is feeble, as a man who has embraced 

His child for the first Ume since infancy, 

And presently must part with him for ever, 

I do adjure ye leave us ! [Exeunt all hut Ion and Adrastui 

Ion. Oh, my father ! 
How is it with thee now ] 

Adras, Well ; very well ; — 
Avenging Fate hath spent its utmost force 
A gainst me ; and I gaze upon my s-^r 
AA^ith the sweet certainty that naught can part uft 
Till all is quiet here. How like a dream 
Seems the succession of my regal pomps 
Since I embraced thy helplessness ! To me 
The interval hath been a weary one; 
How hath it passed with thee ] 

Ion. But that my heart 
Hatii sometimes ached for the sweet sense of kindrc d, 
I had enjoy 'd a round of happy years 
As cherish'd youth e'er knew. 

Adras. I bless the gods 
That they have strewn along thy humble path 
Delights unblamed ; and in this hour I seem 
Even as I had lived so ; and I feel 
That I shall live in thee, unless that curse — 
Oh, if it should survive me ! 

Ion. Think not of it ; 
The gods have shed such sweetness in this moment. 
That, howsoe'er they deal with me hereafter, 
I shall not deem them angry. Let me call 
For help to staunch thy wound ; thou art strong yet, 
And yet may live to bless me. 

Adras. Do not stir ; 
My strength is ebbing fast; yet, as it leaves me, 
The spirit of my stainless days of love 
Awakens ; and their images of joy. 
Which at thy voice started from blank oblivion, 
When thou wert strange to me, and then half-shown 
Lo'jk'd sadly thi-ough the mist of gull::j years, 
Now glimmer on me in the lovely lignt 
Which at thy age they wore Thou art all thy motlier^% 
Her elements of gentlest virtue cast 
Tn mould horoical. 



IcianB I.] ION. B 

Ion, Tliy speech gi*ows fainter ; 
Can I do no thing for thee ? 

Adras, Yes ; — my son 
Thou art the best, the bravest, of a race 
Of lightful monarchs;. thou must mount the thrGne 
Thy ancestors have fill'd, and by great deeds 
Efface the memory of thy fated sire, 
And win the blessing of the gods for men 
Stricken for him. Swear to me thou wilt do tliis^ 
And I shall die forgiven. 

Ion. I will. 

Aclras, Rejoice, 
Sufferers of Argos ! — I am growing weak, 
And my eyes dazzle ; let me rest my hands, 
Ere they have lost their feeling, on thy head. — 
So ! — So ! — thy hair is glossy to the touch 
As when I last enwreath'd its tiny curl 
About my finger ; I did image then 
Thy reign excelling mine ; it is fulfiird ; 
And I die happy. Bless thee, King of Argos ! [Z)ie#. 

Ion, He's dead ! and I am fatherless again. — 
King did he hail me ? shall I make that word 
A spell to bid old happiness awake, 
Throughout the lovely land that father' d me 
In my forsaken childhood I 

[He sees the knife on the ground and takes it up 
Most vain dream ! 

This austere monitor hath bid thee vanish 
Ere half-reveal'd. Come back, thou truant steel ; 
Half of thy work the gods absolved thee from — 
Th 3 rest remains ! Lie there ! [He conceals the k.iife M 

Jiisvest, Shouts Jieard without. 
The voice of joy ! 

Is this thy funeral wailing 1 Oh,' my father ! 
Mournful and brief will be the heritage 
Th(»u leavest me ; yet I promised thee in death 
To grasp it ; — and I will embrace it now. 

Enter Agenor. 

Agen, Does the king live ? 
Io7i, Alas ! in me ! The son 
Of him whose princely Bpirit is at reit. 



U ION ^^» f 

Claims his ancestral honours. 

Age7i, Ihat high thought 
Anticipates flie prayer of Argos, roused 
To sudden joy. The Sages wait without 
To greet thee : wilt confer with them to-night. 
Or wait the morning ? 

Ion. Now ; — the city's state 
Allows the past no sorrow. I attend them. [Ezfuni, i. 

Scene II. — Before the Gate of the City. 
Phocion on guard, 

Pho. Fool that I was to take this idle oiBce, 
At most inglorious distance from the scene 
Which shall be freedom's birth-place ; to endure 
The phantasies of danger, which the soul 
Uncheer'd by action coldly dallies with 
Till it begins to shiver ! Long ere this, 
If Ion's hand be firm, the deed is past, 
And yet no shout announces that the bonds 
Of tyranny are broken. [^Shouts at a distanne. 

Hark ! 'tis done !— 

Enter Ctesiphon, l. 

All hail, my brother freeman ! — art not so ? — 
Thy looks are haggard — is the tyrant slain 1 
Is liberty achieved ! 

Ctes. The king is dead. 
This arm — I bless the righteous Furies !— sle»v liini 

P7io. Did Ion quail, then ? 

Ctcs, Ion ! — clothe thy speech 
In phrase more courtly ; he is king of Argos. 
Accepted as the tyrant's son, and reigns. 

Pho. It cannot be ; I can believe him born 
Of such high lineage ; yet he will not change 
His own rich treasury of unruffled thoughts 
For all the frigid glories that invest 
The loveless state in which the mor arch dwells 
A tenrDr and a slave. [Shouts ogam 

Gt*j. Dost hear that shout? 
Tis raised for him ! — the craven-hoai ted ^ nM 
b ever eager thus to aail a ma3tcr. 



•'■^«iij ION. 65 

And patriots smite for it iv vain Our Soldiers^ 

In the gay recklessness of men who sport 

With life as with a plaything ; Citizens, 

On wretched beds gaping for show ; and Sages, 

Vain of a royal sophist, mad'y join 

In humble prayer that he would deign to tread 

Upon their necks ; and he is pleased tc grant it. 

P/to. He shall not grant it ! If my life, my sense. 
My heart's affections, and my tongue's free scope 
Wait the dominion of a mortal will. 
What is the sound to me, whether my soul 
Bear ** Ion" or " Adrastus" burnt within it 
As my soul's owner ? Ion tyrant ] No ! 
Grant me a moment's pleading with his heart, 
Which has not known a selfish throb till now. 
And thou shalt see him smile this greatness from him. 

Gtes, Go teach the eagle when in azure heaven 
He upward darts to seize his madden'd prey. 
Shivering through the death-circle of its fear, 
To pause and let it 'scape, and thou mayst win 
Man to forego the sparkling round of power, 
When it floats airily within his grasp ! 

Pho, Why thus severe ] Our nature's common wrongi 
Affect thee not ; and that which touch'd thee nearly 
Is well avenged. 

Gtes, Not while the son of him 
Who smote my father reigns ! I little guess'd 
Thou wouldst require a prompter to awake 
The memory of the oath so freshly sworn, 
Or of the place assign' d to thee by lot, 
Should our first champion fail to crush the race — 
Mark me ! — "the race" of him my arm has dealt with 
Now i'S the time, the palace all confused, 
A nd the prince dizzy with strange turns of fortune 
To do thy part. 

Pho Have mercy on my weakness ! 
if thou hadst known this comrade of my sports, 
One of the same small household whom his mirth 
Unfailing gladden'd ;— if a thousand times 
Thou hailst, by strong prosperity made thoughtless, 
Fo^jched his unfathered nature in its nerve 



t^ ION. (Arr ▼. 

Of agony, and felt no chiding glance ;— 

Hadst thou beheld him overtax his strength 

To serve the wish his genial instinct guessed, 

Till his dim smile the weariness betrayed, 

VVliich it would fain dissemble ; hadst thou known 

In sickness the sweet magic of his care. 

Thou couldst not ask it. — Hear me, Ctesiphon ! 

I load a deadly fever once, and slaves 

Fled me : he watched, and glided to my bed, 

And soothed my dull ear with discourse which grew 

By nice degrees to ravishment, till pain 

Seem'd an heroic sense, which made me kin 

To the great deeds he pictured, and the brood 

Of dizzy weakness flickering through the gloom 

Of my small curtain'd prison, caught the hues 

Of beauty spangling out in glorious change, 

And it became a luxury to lie 

And faintly listen. Canst thou bid me slay him 

Ctes, The deed be mine ! Thou'lt not betray me ? 

[Gmng 

Plio, Hold! 
If by our dreadful compact he must fall, 
I will not smite him with my coward thought 
Winging a distant arm ; I will confront him 
Arm'd with delicious memories of our youth, 
And pierce him through them all. 

Ctes, Be speedy, then ! 

Fho, Fear not that I shall prove a laggard, charged 
With weight of such a purpose. Fate commands, 
And I live now but to perform her bidding. 

[Exeunt Ctesiphon, r. Phociok \, 

Scene III. — A Terrace in the Garden of the PcJacC'^ 
moonlight. 

Enter Ion and Agenor, c. 

Agen, Wilt thou not in to rest ? 

Ion, My rest is here — 
Beneath the gi'eatness of the heavens, which awes 
My spirit, tossed by sudden change, and torn 
•By various pass'pns, to repose. Yet age 



SC£HE III.j 



lox. 6: 



Requires more genial nourishment — pray seek il — 
I will on!: stay thee to inquire once more 
If any symptom of returning health 
Bless the wan city ? 

A^f^en, No : the perishing 
Lift up their painful heads to bless thy name, 
And their eyes kind e as they utter it ; 
But still they perish. 

Ion, So ! — give instant order, 
The rites which shall confirm me in my throne, 
Be solemnized to-moiTOW. 

Agen, How ! so soon, 
Wliile the more sacred duties to the dead 
Remain unpaid % 

Ion, Let them abide my time — 
They will not tarry long. I see thee gaze 
With wonder on me — do my bidding now, 
And trust me till to-morrow. Pray go in, 
The night will chill thee else. 

Agen. Farewell, my lord ! [Etit ^ 

Ion, Now all is stillness in my breast — how soon 
To be displaced by more profound repose. 
In which no thread of consciousness shall live 
To feel how calm it is ! — O lamp serene, 
Do I lift up to thee undazzled eyes 
For the last time ? Shall I enjoy no more 
Thy golden haziness, which seemed akin 
To my young fortune's dim felicity ? 
And when it coldly shall embrace the urn 
That shall contain my ashes, will no thought 
Of all the sweet ones cherished by thy beams*. 
Awake to tremble with them ? Vain regret ! 
The pathway of my duty lies in sunlight. 
And I would tread it with as firm a step. 
Though it should terminate in cold oblivion, 
As if Elysian pleasures at its close 
Gleam'd palpable to sight as things of earth. 
Who passes there ? 

Enter Phocion, u. e. l. w7ic strUces at Ion ivith a dagger 

PJio. This to the king Cj£ Argos ! [Ion struggles wiiJk 
liintt seizes the dagger^ whicJt lie throws away. 



W K>N. [Act 17 

Ian, I 'will not fall bj thee, poor wavering covice 
In the assassin's trade ! — thy arm is feeble. 

[He confronts Phocion 
Phocion ! — Was this well aim'd ? thou didst not mean— 

Tho, I meant to take thy life, urged by remembrance 
Of yesterday's great vow. 

Ion, And couldst thou think 
I had forgotten % 

Pho. Thou? 

Ion, Couldst thou believe, 
That one, whose nature had been arm'd to stop 
The life-blood's current in a fellow's veins, 
Would hesitate when gentler duty tum'd 
His steel to nearer use ! To-morrow's davni 
Shall see me wield the sceptre of my fathers : 
Come, watch beside my throne, and, if I fail 
In sternest duty which my country needs, 
My bosom will be open to thy steel. 
As now to thy embrace ! 

Pho Thus let me fall 
Low at thy feet, and kneeling, here receive 
Forgiveness ! do not crush me with more love 
Than lies in the word " pardon." 

Ion, And that word 
I will not speak ; — what have I to forgive % \\ 

A devious fancy, and a muscle raised \ k 

Obedient to its impulse ! Dost thou think 
The tracings of a thousand kindnesses, 
Which taught me all I guessed of brotherhood. 
Are in the rashness of a moment lost ] 

Pho. I cannot look upon thee : let me go 
And lose myself in darkness. 

Ion. Nay, old playmate. 
We part not thus : — the duties of my state 
Will shortly end our fellowship : but spend 
A few short minutes with me. Dost remember 
How in a night like this we climb' d yon walls- 
Two vagrant urchins, and with tremulous joy 
Skimm'd through these statue -border' d walks, that gleam'ii 
In bright succession ? Let us tread them now; 
And think we a]e but alder by a day, I I 



SowxI.l 



ION. 69 



And that :he pleasant walk of yester-night 
We are to-night retracing. Come, my friend ! 
What, drooping yet ! thou wert not wont to seem 
So stubborn. Cheerily, my Phocion — come ! 

END OF ACT IV. 



ACT V. 

ScENK I. — The terrace of the Palace. — Tm^, the fmarKing 

of the second day. 

Two Soldiers on guard, 

1 &oh A stirring season, comrade ! our new prince 
Has leap'd as eagerly into his seat. 

As he had languished an expectant heir 
Weary of nature's kindness to old age. 
He was esteem'd a modest stripling : strange 
That he should, with such reckless huny, seize 
The gaudy shows of power ! 

2 Sol. 'Tis honest nature ; 

The royal instinct was but smouldering in hira, 
And now it blazes forth. I pray the gods 
He may not give us cause to mourn his sire. 
1 &ol. No more : he comes. 

'Enter Ion, c. 

l(m» Why do ye loiter here % 
Are all the statues deck'd with festal wreaths 
As I commanded ] 

1 SoL We have been on guard 
Here, by Agenor's order, since the nightfall. 

Ion, On guard ! Well, hasten now, and see It fione, 
I need no guards. [Exeunt Soldieri 

The 3.wf\i[ hour draws near — 
[ am composed to meet it. — Phocion comes : 
Ho will unman me ; yet he must not go, 
Thinking liis presence painful. 



70 ION. rAiwt 

Elder PiiocioN, L. 

Friend, good mon dw ! 

Thou play'st the courtier early. 

PJio, Canst thou speak 
In that old tone of common cheerfuTnesg 
That blithely promises delightful yertrs 
And held thy mournful purpose ? 

Ion, I have drawn 
From the selectest fountain of repose 
A blessed calm : — when I lay down to rest, 
[ feprM lest bright remembrances of childhood 
Should with untiir ely visitation mock me ; 
But deep and dreamless have my slumbers been. 
[f sight uf thee renews the thoughts of life 
Too busily — 1 prize the love that wakes them. 

PJio. Oh ! cherish them, and let them plead w'th thed 
To grant my prayer, — that thou wouldst live for Argos, 
Not die for her ; — thy gracious life shall win, 
More than thy death, the favour of the gods, 
And charm the marble aspect of grim Fate 
Into a blessed change: J, who am vow'd, 
And who so late was arm'd Fate's minister, 
[mplore thee ! 

Ion, Speak to me no more of life ! 
There is a dearer name I would recall — I ] 

Thou understand'st me — 

Enter Agenor, l. 

Agen, Thou hast forgot to name 
Who shall be bidden to this evening's feast. 

Ion, The feast ! most true ; I had forgotten it. [ 

Bid whom thou wilt; but let there be large store. | (] 

If our sad walls contain it, for the w^retched 
Whom hunger palsies. It may be few else 
Will taste it with a relish. [ Exit Agexor, l. 

(Ion resumes his address to Phocion, and contiwjies it^ bio 
ken by the interruptions which follow,) I would sci»^ 
A word of her who y ester-morning rose 
Tfi her light dut es with as blithe a heart 
As ever yet its equal beating vei^'d 
In moveless alabaste^ ; — plighted now, 



fiOEKE IJ ION. 71 

In liberal hour, to one whose dest'ny 
Shall freeze the sources of enjoyment in ic^ 
And make it heavy with the life-long pang 
A widow'd spirit bears ! — 

Enter Cleon, l. 

Cleon. The heralds wait 
To learn the hour at which the solemn gaires 
Shall be proclaimed, 

Ion, The games ! — yes, I remember 
That sorrow's darkest pageantries give place 
To youth's robustest pastimes — Death and Life 
Embracing :— at the hour of noon. 

Cleon. The wrestlers 
Pray thee to crown the victor. 

Ion, If I live, 
Their wish shall govern me. [Exti CLBOBf, L* 

Could I recall 

One hour, and bid thy sister think of me 
AVith gentle sorrow, as a playmate lost, 
I should escape the guilt of having stopp'd 
The pulse of hope in the most innocent soul 
That ever passion ruffled. Do not talk 
Of me as I shall seem to thy kind thoughts, 
But harshly as thou canst ; and if thou steal 
From thy rich store of popular eloquence 
Some bitter charge against the faith of kings, 
'Twill be an honest treason. 

Enter Cassander, r. 

Cass. Pardon me, 
[f I entreat thee to permit a few 
Of thy once cherished friends to bid thee joy 
Of that which swells their pride. 

Ian. They '11 madden me. — 
Do.«l thou not see me circled round with care *{ 
Urge me no more. [As Cassander is going. Ion leavfii 

PuocioN, and comes to him. 
Come back, Cassander ! see 

Eldw greatness frets the temper. Keep this ring- 
It may remind thee of the pleasant hours 
That we have spei.t toge^vher, ere o ir fortunes 



78 TON. 



fACT f 



Grew separate ; and with thy grac ious sf eech 

Excuse me to our friends. [Exit CASSAN^yen, r 

Pko, 'Tis time we seek 
The temple. 

Ion. Phocion ! must" I to the temple ] 

Pho, There sacrificial rites must be perform'd 
Before thou art enthroned. 

Ion. Then I must gaze 
On things which will arouse the struggling thoughts 
I had subdued — perchance may meet with her 
Whose name I dare not utter. I am ready. [Exeunt^ \ 

Scene II. — The Temple. 

Clemanthe and Abra, discovered. 

Ahra. Be comforted, dear lady j — he must come 
To sacrifice. 

Clem. Recall that churlish word, 
That subborn " must^^ that bounds my living hopes, 
As with an iron circle. He rnust come ! 
How piteous is affection's state, that cleaves 
To such a wretched prop ! I had ilown to him 
Long before this, but that I fear'd my presence 
Might prove a burthen, — and he sends no word. 
No token that he thinks of me ? Art sure 
That he must come ] The hope has torture in it ; 
Yet it is all my bankrupt heart hath left 
To feed upon. 

Ahra. I see him now with Phocion 
Pass through the inner court. 

Clem. He vrill not come 
This way, then, to the place for sacrifice. 
I can endure no more ; speed to him, Abia ; 
And bid him, if he holds Clemanthe's life 
Worthy a minute's los? to seek me here. 

Alra. Dear lady ! — 

Glem. Do not answer me, but inin, 
Or I shall give yon crowd o! sycophants 
To gaze upo 1 my sorrow. [J5a?^^ Abiu fc. 

It is hard ; 
Yet I must strive to bear it, and f nd solace 



kv ITElIJ ION Hi 

Ii ihat high fortune which has made nim strauge, 
H } bends this way — ^but slowly — mournfully. 
O, lie is ill ; how has my slander wronged him I 

Enter Ion, l. 

^on. What wouldst thou with me, lady 1 

tJlem. Is it so ] 
Nothing, my lord, save to implore thy pardon, 
That the departing gleams ol a bright dream, 
From which I scarce had waken' d, made me boW 
To crave a word with thee ; — but all are fled — 
And I have naught to seek. 

loa, A goodly dream ; 
But viiou art right to think it was no more, 
And ritudy to forget it. 

C%v?i. To forget it 1 
Indeed, my lord, I cannot wish to lose 
What, being past, is all my future hath. 
All I fc^all live for: do not grudge me this, 
The b,ief space I shall need it. 

Ion. Speak not, fair one. 
In tonb so mournful, for it makes me feel 
Too sewsibly the hapless wretch I am. 
That troubled the deep quiet of thy soul 
In that ))ure fountain which reflected heaven, 
For a biief taste of rapture. 

Clem, Dost thou yet 
Esteem it rapture, then 1 My foolish heart. 
Be still ! Ye^t wherefore should a crown divido us f 
Oh, my de&f Ion ! let me call thee so 
This once at least — it could not in my thoughts 
Increase the distance that there was between us 
When, rich in spirit, thou to strangers' eyes 
Seem'd a poor foundling. 

Ian. It must separate us ! 
Think it no harmless babble, but a curse 
Will freeze the current in the veins of youth, 
And from familiar touch of genial hand. 
From household pleasures, from sweet daily tasks, 
From airy thought, free wanderer of the heavens, 
For ever banish me ! 



^ 

T4 ON. r^3»¥ 

Clem. Thou dost accuse 
Thy state too hardly. It may give some roonit 
Some little space, amid its radiant folds, 
For love to make its nest in ! 
'^ Ion. Not for me : 

My pomp must be most lonesome, far removed 
From that sweet fellowship of human kind 
The slave rejoices in ; my solemn robes 
Shall wrap me as a panoply of ice. 
And the attendants who may throng around me 
Shall want the flatteries which may basely warm 
The sceptral thing they circle. Dark and cold 
Stretches the path, which, when I wear the crown, 
I needs must enter ; — the great gods forbid 
That thou should 'st follow in it ! 

Clem. Oh, unkind ! 
And shall we never see each other 1 

Ion. (after a pause,) Yes ! 
I have asked that dreadful question of the hills 
I'hat look eternal ; of the flowing streams 
1'hat lucid flow for ever ; of the stars, 
Amid whose fields of azure my raised spirit 
Hath trod in glory : all were dumb ; but now, 
While I thus gaze upon thy living face, 
[ feel the love that kindles through its beauty, 
Can never wholly perish ; — we shall meet 
Again, Clemanthe ! 

Clem. Bless thee for that name ; 
Call me that name again ! thy words sound »trangelj 
Yet they breathe kindness. Shall we meet indeed? 
Think not I would intrude upon thy cares. 
Thy councils, or thy pomps ; — to sit at distance, 
To w<3ave, with the nice labour whicli preserves 
The rebel pulses even, from gay threads 
Faint records of thy deeds, and sometimes catch 
The falling music of f; gracious word, 
Qr the stray sunshine of a smile, will be 
Comfort enough ; — do not deny me this r 
Or, if stem fate compel thee to deny, 
ICill me at once ! / ' 

hm, No ; thou must live, ny fair one; 



iciralll] ION. . 7i 

There are a thousand joyous things in life, 
Which pass unheeded in a hfe of joy- 
As thine hath been, till breezy son-ow comes 
To ruffle it ; and daily duties paid 
Hardly at first, at length will bring repose 
To the sad mind that studies to perform them. 
Thou dost not mark me. 

Clem. Oh, I do ! I do ! 

Ian, If for thy brother's and thy father's sake 
Thou art content to live, the healer Time 
Will reconcile thee to the lovely things 
Of this delightful w^orld, — and if another, 
A happier — no, I cannot bid thee love 
Another ! — I did think I could have said it, 
But 'tis in vain. 

Clem. Thou art mine own, then, still ] 

Ion. I am thine own ! thus let me clasp thee ; nearer! 
Oh, joy too thrilling and too short ! 

Enter Agenor, r. 

Agen. My lord, 
The sacrificial rites await thy presence. 

Ion, I come. — One more embrace — the last, the last 
in this world ! Now farewell ! [Exeunt Agenor and Ion. 

Clem, The last embrace ! 
Then he has cast me off! — No, 'tis not so ; 
Some mournful secret of his fate divides us : 
rU struggle to bear that, and snatch a comfort 
From seeing him uplifted. I will look 
Upon him on his throne ; Minerva's shrine 
Will shelter me from vulgar gaze : I'll hasten, 
And feast my sad eyes with his gi'eatness there ! [Exit^ r. 

Scene III. — TJie great Square of the city, — on the L, 
a throne of state prepared, — on tlte n. an altar, — the statud 
decorated with garlands. 

Enter Ctesiphon and Cassander, r f. e. 
Ctes, Vex me no inore, by telling me, Cassander, 
Of his fair speech ; I prize it at its worth : 
Thou'lt see how he will act when seated firm 
Upon the throne the craven tyrant fill'd, 



7* • roN 



f^^i 



WTio.n.'- 6 ood he boasts, unless some h''»nest Lsm 
Should ?hed it first. 

Cas, £Iast thou forgot the time 
When t lou thyself wert eager to foretell 
His manhood's glory from his childish virtues I 
Let rae not think thee one of those fond prophets, 
Who are well pleased still to foretell success, 
So it remain their dream. 

Ctes, Thoi dost forget 
What has chilFd fancy and delight within me — 

[Music at a dutanct. 
Hark ! — servile trumpets speak his coming — watch, 
How power will change him. [ They stand aside 

The Procession, Enter u. e. r. Medon, AgExNor, Pho- 
cioN, TiMocLES, Cleon, Sagcs and People — Ion last in 
royal rohes. He advances amidst shouts. 

Ion, I thank you for your gi'eeting — Shout no more. 
But in deep silence raise your hearts to Heaven, 
That it may strengthen one so young and frail 
As I am, for the business of this hour. 
Must I sit here 1 

Medon, Permit thy earliest fiiend, 
Who has so often propped thy tottering steps, 
To lead thee to thy throne, — and thus fulfil 
His fondest vision. 

Ion, Thou art still most kind — 

Medon, Nay, do not think of me — my son 1 my son . 
What ails thee ] When thou should'st reflect the joj' 
Of Argos, the strange paleness of the grave 
Marbles thy face. 

Ion, Am I indeed so pale ? 
It is a solemn office 1 assume ; 
Yet thus, with Phoebus' blessing, I embrace it. 

[Sits on t\e thrtmt 
Stand forth, Agenor ! 

Agen, I await tliy will. 

Ion, To thee I look as to the wisest friend 
Of this afl[licted people — thou must leave 
Awhile the quiet which thy life hath eam'd, 
To rule our councils ; fill the seats of justice 



StMlIII] ION. 

With good men-— not s ) absolute in goodness. 
As to forget what human ft ailty is ; — 
And order my sad country. 

Agen, Pardon me— ^ 

Ion. Nay, I will promise 'tis my last request; 
Thou never couldst deny me what I sought 
[n boyish wantonness, and shalt not grudge 
Thy wisdom to me, till our state revive 
From its long anguish ; — it will not be long 
If Heaven approve me here. Thou hast all poww 
Whether I live or die. 

Agen, Die ! I am old — 

Ion, Death is not jealous of thy mild decay, 
Which gently wins thee his ; exulting Youth 
Provokes the ghastly monarch's sudden stride. 
And makes his honid fingers quick to clasp 
His shivering prey at noontide. Let me see 
The captain of the guard. 

Cry, I kneel to crave 
Humbly the favour which thy sire bestow'd 
On one who loved him well. 

Ion, I cannot thank thee. 
That wakest the memory of my father's weakness; 
But I will not forget that thou hast shared 
The light enjoyments of a noble spirit, 
And learned the need of luxury. I grant 
For thee and thy brave comrades, ample shaie 
Of such rich treasures as my stores contain, 
To grace thy passage to some distant land, 
Wliere, if an honest cause engage thy sword. 
May glorious laurels wreath it ! In our realm. 
We shall not need it longer. 

Cry, Dost intend 
To banish the firm troops before whose? valour 
Baibarian millions shrink appall'd, and leave 
'.)ur city naked to tlie first assault 
Of reckless foes ] 

Ion, No, Crythes ! — in ourselves, 
In our own honest hearts and chainless hands 
Will be our safeguard ; — while we seek no use 
Of arms we would not have our children blend 



78 ION. Act f 

With their first innocent wishes ; while the loTO 

Of Argos and of justice shall be one 

To their young reason ; while their sinews grow 

Firm 'midst the gladness of heroic sports, — 

We shall not ask, to guard our country's peace, 

One selfish passion, or one venal sword. 

I would not grieve thee ; — ^but thy valiant troop—* 

For I esteem them valiant — must no more, 

With luxury which suits a desperate camp. 

Infect us. See that they embark, Agenor, 

Ere night. 

Cry, My lord — 

Ion. No more — my word hath pass'd. 
Medon, there is no office I can add 
To those thou hast grown old in ; — thou wilt guard 
The shrine of Phoebus, and within thy home — 
Thy too delightful home — ^befriend the stranger 
As thou didst me ; — there sometimes waste a thought 
On thy spoird inmate ! 

Medon, Think of thee, my lord 1 
Long shall we triumph in thy glorious reign — 

Ion Prithee no more. Argives ! I have a boon 
To crave of you ; — whene'er I shall rejoin 
In death the father from whose heart in life 
Stern fate divided me, think gently of him ! 
For ye, who saw him in his full-blown pride, 
Knew little of affections crush'd within, 
And wrongs which frenzied him ; yet never mora i ] 

Let the great interests of the state depend ; \ 

Upon the thousand chances that may sway ! I 

A piece of human frailty ! Swear to me 
That ye will .seek hereafter in yourselves 
The means of sovereign rule : — our narrow i^aca^ | k 

So happy in its confines, so compact, 
Needs not^the magic of a single name 
Which wider regions may require to draw 
Their interests into one ; but, circled thus, 
liike a bless'd family by simple laws, 
May tenderly be governed ; all degrees 
Moulded together as a single form 
Of nymph like loveliness, which finest chorda 



«CS!nBitl.j ION. 7» 

Of sympathy pen ading shall suffuse 

In times of quiet with one bloom, and fill 

With one resistless impulse, if the hosts 

Of foreign power should threaten. Swear to Bid 

That ye wdll do this ! 

Medon, Wherefore ask this now ? 
Thou shalt live long ! The paleness of thy face 
Which late appalled me, is grown radiant now. 
And thine eyes kindle with the prophecy 
Of lustrous years. 

Ion. The gods approve me, then ! 
Yet will I use the function of a king. 
And claim obedience. Promise, if I leave 
No issue, that the sovereign power shall live 
In the affections of the general heart, 
And in the wisdom of the best. 

Medon and others (kneeling). We swear it ! 

Ion, Hear and record the oath, immortal powers ! 
Now give me leave a moment to approach 
That altar, unattended. . \^He goes to iJie diUNrm 

Gracious gods ! 

In whose mild servdce my glad youth was spent, 
liook on me now ; and if there is a Power, — 
As at this solemn time I feel there is, — 
Beyond ye, that hath breathed through all your chapes 
The spirit of the beautiful that lives 
In earth and heaven : — to ye I offer up 
This conscious being, full of life and lovo, 
Foi* my dear country's welfare. Let this blow 
End all her sorrows ! \Stahs himself and fa^^h. Ctesi 

VHON rushes to yupimi him* 
Ctesiphon, thou art 
Avenged, and wilt foi'give me. 

Ctes. Thou hast plucked 
The pocr disguitte of hatred from my soul, 
And made me feel how shallow is the wish 
Of* vengoance. Could I die to save thee ! 

^ CLEMArn'iiE 7us7ies forward. 

Clem. Hold I 
fitft me flupporl him - fltand awsj ! indci)d 



80 KM?. jACT ^ 

I have best right, altho^igh ye knew it iMj 
To cling to him in death. 

Ion. This is a joy 
[ did not hope for — ^this is sweet indeed ! 
Bend thine eyes on me ! 

Clem. And for this it was 
Thou wouldst have weaned me from theo ? CoildBt tls03 

think 
I would be so divorced ? 

Ion. Thou art right, Clem an the : 
It was a shallow and an idle thought-^- 
'Tis past ! No show of coldness frets us now, 
No vain disguis€5^ my love. Yet thou wilt thiiik 
On that, which, when I feign' d, I truly said — 
Wilt thou not, sweet one ? 

Clem. I will treasure all. 

Enter Ircs, l. 

Irus. I bring you glorious tidings — ^Ha! no jay 
Can enter here. 

Ton. Yes— ]s it as I hope 1 

Irtis. The pestilence abates. 

Ion f springs on his feet). Do ye not hear % 
Why shout ye not % — ye are strong — think not of ma, 
Hearken ! the curse my ancestry had spread 
O'er Argos, is dispelled — Agenor, give 
This gentle youth his freedom, who hath brought 
Sweet tidings that I shall not die in vain ! — 
And Medon ! cherish him as thou hast one 
Wlio, dying, blesses thee ; — ^my own Clemanthol 
Let this console thee also — ^Argos lives— 
Tha oAJbi ing Sr BRcepted — all is well I I Wm 

Tke Oartain FjOs. 



3 FOR A KBW DESCRIPTIVE CA 



Legacy 
Burner 



iter 
iband 



{Catalogue continued 
vol,. XLII. 

329 Ticket of Leave Man 

330 Fool's Revenge 

331 O'Neil the Great 

332 Handy Andy 

333 Pirate of the Isles 

334 Fanchon 

335 Little Barefoot ^ 

336 Wild Irish Girl 



from second page of coiner. ) 

VOL. XLIII. 

337 Pearl of Savoy 

338 Dead Heart 

339 Ten Nights in a Bar- room 

340 Dumb Boy of Manoheeter 

341 Belpheger the Mountebank 

342 Cricket on the Heanh 

343 Printer's Devil 

344 Meg's Diversion 



345 Drunks 

346 Chimney 
»47 Fifteen Yv 

348 No Thoro«t, 

349 Peep O'Day 

350 Everybody' • a 
Hamlet, in Thjree 1 
Guttle & Gulpit 



Ct8. 

SECRET OF SHABCW 

lES ; or, Harlequin in the Shades, 
a up and how to act them. With 
instructiors, and numerous Illua- 
)NY Denier. Price ^.25 

.BliEAUX ; or, Animated Pic- 
j of Families, Schools, and Public 
y Tony Dewier. Price 25 

GUIDE TO HOME THE- 

How to get them up, and how to 
which is added, " How to get up 
Country House," with By-Laws, 
Plays, and everything useful for 
of amateur societies. Price 25 

TO THE STAGE, by LemaW 
Containing clear and full direo* 
ng Theatrical Engagements, witll 
luable instructions for beginners, 
les, rules, manner of going through 
ring proper Dresses, conduct at a 
&c., Ac. Price 15 

F ACTING; or, Guide to the 
a the Dramatic Passions are de- 
and made easy of acquirement; 
}s necessary for performers of both 
gentlemen, lovers, tradesmen, 
, fine ladies, hoydens, characters 
dage, eto. Price 15 



MASSEY'S EXHIBITION REOITE. 
AND DRAWING-ROOM BNTER 

TAINMENTS. Being ehoice Heeitations in 
prose and verse. Together with an unique colleo- 
tion of Petite Comedies, Dramas and Farces, 
adapted for the use of Schools and F ami lie*. Two 

numbers per number, 80 

The two numbers, bound in cloth, School style — T* 
THE OLiIO ; or Speaker's Companion. ▲ col- 
lection of Recitations in Prose and Verte, Dia- 
logues and Burlesques, compiled for the use of 
Schools, Thespian Societies, eto., and for Public 
Declamation or Reading. In three parts. , . each, 1 5 

DRAMAS FOR THE DRAWLING- 
ROOM. By Miss KeaTino. Two parts, each, 40 

PliAYS FOR THE PARLOR. By Miss 
Keating. Two parts each, 40 

ACTING CHARADES. By Miss Picker- 
ing 40 

COMIC DRAMAS, for College, Camp, or Cabin 
(Male Characters only), four parts each, 40 

DRAMAS i<X)R BOYS (Male Characters only), 
by Miss Keating , 40 

HOME PliAYS FOR liAjDIlSS (Pemele 
Characters only), complete In tiiree parts. . . . eaefa, 40 

AN EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT, 

an original C omedy, a Burlesque and Faroe 40 



IE ETHIOPIAN DRAMA. 



(NEW SERIES.) 



r of All 



NO. 

8 Tom and Jerry, and Who's 

been Here 

9 No Tator, or Man Pish 

10 Who Stole th« Chicken* 

11 Upper Ten Thousand 

12 Rip Van Winklo 



2fO. 

13 Ten Days in tbe TomtM 

14 Two Pompeys 

15 Running the Blook»de 

16 Jeemes tbe Poet 

17 Intelligence 0£Ebie 
15 Echo Band 



NO. . 

19 Deserters 

20 Deaf aa a Post 

21 Dead Alive 

22 Cvusin Joe's Visit 

23 Boarding School 

24 Academy of Stars 



9 Dinah 

tor 
11 



9 Nigger 
maker 



17 The Magic Penny 

18 The Wreck (ny Cupids 

19 Oh Hush! orTheVirgin- 

20 The Portrait Painter 

21 The Bop of Fashion 

22 Bone Squa-sli 

23 The Virginia Mummy 

24 Thieves at the Mill 

25 Comedy of Errors 

26 LesMiserables 

27 New Year's Calls 

23 Troublesome Servant 

29 Great Arrival 

30 Rooms to Let 

31 Black Crook Burlesque 

32 Ticket Taker 



NO. 

33 Hypochondriao 

34 William Tell 

35 Rose Dale 

36 Feast 

87 Pen Ian Spy 

38 Jack's the Lad 

39 Othello 

40 Camille 

41 Nobody's Son 

42 Sports on a Lark 

43 Actor and Singer 

44 Sbylook 

45 QnarreLsome Serrauta 

46 Hauntod House 

47 No Cure, ^o Pay 



Ha 

48 Fighting for the Union 

49 Hamlet the Dainty 

50 Corsioan T<vins 

51 Deaf— in a Horn 
5a Challenge Dance 

53 De Trouble begins at Nine 
64 Scenes at Gurney's 

55 16,000 Years Ago 

56 Stage- struck Darkey 

57 Black Mail [Clothes 

58 Highest Price for Oid 

59 Howls from the Owl TraJn 
00 Old Honks 

61 The Three BlacJ' ^ 
32 Turkeys !'" ' 



y Denier'g Parlor Pantomimes.— In Ten Part? 



R OT THK Author. By Sylvester 
How TO Express the Vakious 
DNS, etc. Thr Four LovEEs; or, 
dezvous. The Frisky Cobbueb • 

isaus. 

SE ANDPR0GEE83'~' .. x' H 



No. V.-Th 
Regime 



INCH'S MINOR DRAM 



/\ 



Price 16 Cents each.— Bound Volumes $1. 26. 



L. I. 
i Attorn^ 
the &w«Q 
J pay the Bent 
.oaa of a Lorer 
Dead Shot 
Last Legs 
iC Invfjible Prince 
he Golden Farmer 
VOL. II. 
J Pride of the Market 

10 Used Up 

11 The Irish Tutor 

12 The E.nrrack Room 

13 Luke the Laborer 

14 Beauty and the Beast 

15 St. Patrick's Eve 

16 Captain of the Watch 

VOL. III. 

17 The Secret [pers 

18 White Horie of the Pep- 

19 The Jacobite 

20 The Bottle 

21 Box and Cox 

22 Bamboozling 

23 Widow's Victim 

24 Robert Macaire 

VOL, IV. 

25 Secret Serrica 

26 Omnibus , 

27 Irish Lion • 

28 Maid of Croiasy 

29 The Old Guard 

30 Raising the Wind 

81 Slasher and Crasher 

82 Naval Engagements 

VOL. V. 

33 Oocknies in California 

34 Who Speaks First 

35 Bomoastej; ^ arioso 

36 Macbeth Travestie 

37 Irish Ambassador 

38 Delicate Ground 

39 The Weathercoclc [Gold 

40 All that Glitters la Not 

VOL. VI. 

41 Grimshaw, Bagshaw asidl 

Bradshaw 

42 Rough Diamond | 

43 Bloomer Costume 

44 Two Bonnycastles 
J.5 T^orn t-.« Goou Luuk 

46 Kiss iu the Dark . [jurer 

47 'T would Puzzle a Con- 

48 Kill or Cure 

VOL. VII. 

49 Box and Cox Married and 

50 St. Cupid _ [Settled 



VOL. XII. 

145 Colimibus 

146 Harlequin Bluebeard 

147 Ladies at Home 

148 Phenomenonina Smock 



VOL. X. 
71 Ireland and America 

74 Pretty Piece of Buainesi 

75 Irish Broom-maker 

76 To Paris and Baok for 
Five Pounds 

77 That Blessed Baby 

78 Our Gal 

79 Swiss Cottage 

80 Young "WidoTT 
VOL. XI. 

81 b'Flannigan and the Fa- 

82 Irish Post [ries 

83 My Neighbor's Wife 

84 Irish Tiger 

85 P . P . , or Man and Tiger 

86 To Oblige Benson 

87 Stat# Secrets 

88 Irish Yankee 

VOL. XII. 

89 A Good Fellow 

90 Cherry and Fair Staa" 

91 Gale Breezely 

92 Our Jemimy 

93 Miller ^ Maid 

94 Awkward Arrival 

95 Crossing the Line 
03 Conju^il Lessc-^ 

vo;.. x;i: 

97 My Wife's Kirrt • 

98 Life in New York 

99 Middy Ashore 

100 Crown Prince 

101 Two Queens 

102 Thumping Legacy 

103 Unfinished Gentleman 

104 House Dog 
VOL. XIV. 

105 The Dsmor _aver 

106 Matrimony 

107 In and Out of Place 

108 I Dine with My Mother 

109 Hi-a-wa-tha 

110 Andy Blaka |,g„ Dumb B-lle 

111 Love in ' 76 [ties ^^'^ ^"°^^ ^^"'^ 

112 Romance under Difficul- 



VOL. XX 

217 Crinoline 

218 A Family Fi 

219 Adopted ChiW 
"^20 Turned Headi 



ilil I 



Frock 1 221 A Match in the 1 

149 Comedy and Tragedy 1322 Advice to Husbi ; 

150 Opposite Ntl^Lh-rs 12:.: 5^ initie Twinrt 

151 Dutchman's Ghost 224 Sent to the Toq 
1C2 Pv Tbtrcuted L ucchman VOL. XX 

VOL. XX. 225 Someb dV Ela 

153 Musard Bill 1 226 Ladles :?^attle«i 

154 Great Tragic Revival i227 Art of Ac-ting J 
i:5 High Low Jack & Game i28 The Lady oitT 

156 A Gentleman from Ire- 229 The Righta of 

157 Tom and Jerry [land 1^30 My Husband" i 

158 Village Lawyer ' j 231 Two Can rial 

159 Captain's not A-misB i Game 

160 Amateurs and Actors 1232 Fighting by P.- 
VOL. XXI. VOL. XXX 

161 Promotion [ual|233 Unprotected Ft 

162 A Fascinating Individ- i 294 Pet of the Pett; 

163 Mrs. Caudle '235 Fjrty and Fitr 

164 Shokspeare's Dream l236 Who Stc!. t! 

165 Nepvune' s Defeat J2S7 My Son Dian? 

166 Lady of Bedchamber 1238 Unwarramab. 

167 Take C •":' of Litt^- 23'' Mr an^. Mrs. 

168 Irish Widow lCharleyl240 A (.^aiet Fam' 

VO.. 2 5i: I "Cu. XX, 

16^ Yaakee Pedll* r |241 Cool m Cucurr 

I'^O Hiram .lire jut ;-'*? ludden Tho" 

171 Double-Bedded Room 243 Jumb'> Jxim 
l'J2 The Drama Defended 244 ABlightt-d Bein, 

173 Vermont Wool Dealer 245 Little Toddleif : j 

174 Ebenezer Venture [t^r 246 A Lover by Pi x 

175 Principles from Charac 247 Maid with the 

176 Lady of the Lake (Trar) 248 Perplexing Prei 
VOL. XXIII. »OL. XXXII 

177 AslC 3ogE |249 Dr. Dilworth 

178 Barney the Baron P^O Out to Nurse 

179 Swiss Swains pi -A. Lucky Hit 

180 Bachelor's Bedroom 252 The Dowager 

181 A Roland for an Oliver «3 Metamora ^Burl- 

182 More Blunder* than Onei''* Dreams of Delu- 



184 Limerick Boy 
VOL. XXIV. 

185 ^Ta:ui 3 and Phi'osophv 

186 Teddy the Tiler 
'87 Spectre BridgrooL 



VOL. XV. 

113 0^2 Coatfoi 2 Salts 

114 A Decided Case 187 Spectre Brldgr. 

J fi vf ^nt^'h. n.r^lTx?^ 1'^ 3Iatteo Falcote 
116 No; or, the Glorious Mi- 

: 17 Coroner's xn^uisition 

! 18 Love ia Humble Life ! 

119 Family J ATS 

120 Personation j 



189 Jpuuj Lind 
19u Two Buzzards 
iJi 'Wnppy Man 
}l92 Betsy Baker 



51^?i^-to-bed Tom 
5/ \ Lawyers ' 
51 "ck S hep par d 

54 The Toodles 

55 The Mobcap " 
66 Ladies Beware 

VOL. VIII, 

57 Morning CaU 

58 Popping the QueaCion 
69 Deaf as a Post 

60 New Footman 

61 Pleasant Xpighbor 
■■ ■ '" :^i" Piper 



VOL. XVL 

121 Children in the Wood 

122 Winning a Husband 

123 Day after the Fair 

124 Make Your Wills 

125 Rendezvous 

126 My Wife s Husband 

127 Monsieur Tonaon 

128 Illustrious Stranger 
VOL. XVII 

1^ Mischief -Making [Mines 

130 A Live Woman in the 

131 The Coirsair 

132 Shylock 

133 Spoiled Child 

134 Evil Eye 

135 Nothing to Nurse 

136 Wanted a Widow 

VOL. XVIIL 
37 Lottery Ticket 
"o. '.une's J'rolic 



VOL. XXV. 

193 No. 1 Round the Corner 

194 Teddy Roe 

195 Object of Interest 

196 My Fellow Clerk 

197 Bengal Tiger 

198 Laughing Hyena 

199 The v'ictor Vanquished 

200 Our Wife 

VOL. XXVI. 

201 My Hupband'g Mirror 

202 Yankee Land. 

203 Norah Creina 

204 Good for Nothing 



265 The Shai ? 
J256 Ticklish Times 
! TOL. XXXI 

257 20 JLinu:eB witb,- 

258Miraj1i: or, the 
] of I a ■- >n 

259 A So) tier a Cour 
J260S(r, -t-hyLeg. 
j26] DyjUsi jor \ ov- 
1262 Al8 -;• -■' Sacrii 
|263 Vaiet de Sham 

l64NichniaaNickIt' 
VOL. XXXIT 

266 The Last of liie 

266 King Rene's Vj' 

267 The Grotto Nt:, 

268 A Devilish G.,. 

269 A Twice ' 1 

270 Pas de I 

271 RevoluT 

272 AManWi.ii.u: '. 
VOL. XXA'v 

273 The Olio, Part 1 

274 Th« (tlio. Par '^ 

275 Ti. ■ ■■ :u. -n- 

276 T 
111^ ', ■ .. 

278 Grecu ,«iouiii«. i 

279 That Nr He 

280 Ton--. IxOddj's Si; 



205 The First Night 

206 The Eton Boy 

207 Wandering Minstrtl 

208 Wanted, 1000 MilUnerB 

/OL. xxvn. 

204> Poor Pilcoddy "'^^ -^ 

210 The Mummy [Glasses; 26l ^ 

211 Don't Forgety our Oper^,-,: 

212 T.ove in Livery ;28d 

'v and Cleopatra ,viW "■ 
/Tt On. (.285 i 

-truck Yankee ii86 (. 
' WifeA Old Ue:-; 287 On^ roucu . 
a ; . {288 TwoB'fcoy- 

VOL. XXXIX. 
— ' '— 10« Cute«or 



^' rl 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





014 549 105 8 



fiii/?^^^^" 



